


We The Three

by hermioneclone



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Domestic Violence, Emotional Abuse, I promise this is not all dark and gloomy, Language, Marriage of Convenience, Minor Character Death, Multi, Sexual Harassment, Sexy Times, also the marriage of convenience is non-abusive, sexual assault (groping)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-12
Updated: 2014-10-13
Packaged: 2018-02-20 06:56:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 70,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2419301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hermioneclone/pseuds/hermioneclone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <img/>
</p><p> </p><p>Relationships come in all shapes and sizes, though more or less they all are expected to boil down to the magic number three. Not everyone is so lucky. Not everyone wants to be. But sometimes, people find love in the most unexpected of places. Can a marriage of convenience turn into love for Chris, Melissa, and the Sheriff? Will Kira turn Allison and Scott’s world upside down? Can Derek get over himself and let Stiles and Lydia into his heart? Maybe. Stranger things have happened in Beacon Hills.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> A note about the warnings. I promise this is not a horribly dark and depressing fic, but bad stuff does happen. I'll try to put in the notes at the beginning of each chapter when they apply and if there are any triggers you are worried about, you can message me on tumblr (hermioneclone.tumblr.com). Some of the themes, like the marriage and emotional abuse carry throughout, but I will try to warn when appropriate. 
> 
> Also, Scott's father is a lot worse in this fic than in the series. I actually kind of like him on the show now, but this story came together before that happened.
> 
> Thank you to everyone running the Triad Big bang for providing this opportunity to actually get this fic done. I'd like to thank my amazing beta, [thecurlymop](http://thecurlymop.tumblr.com/), who really did an awesome job at somehow getting through this entire thing at the last minute. Also, thank you [Adri](http://Betabitches.tumblr.com) for helping me find the right words that eluded me for the summary. Last but certainly not least, thank you to my wonderful artist, [ucanhavemysoup](http://ucanhavemysoup.tumblr.com) for all of the amazing artwork for this piece. [You can find the masterpost here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2435753).
> 
> This was such a fun fic to write, super out of my comfort zone but so rewarding. Enjoy the ride!

**Chapter 1:**

“You have got to be kidding me,” Melissa McCall sighed as she gazed down at the box of crackers in her hand, then over to the massive pile on the floor, which had been resting on the display case before she picked up one and the rest inexplicably tumbled down. Placing her box in the shopping cart, Melissa bent down to begin collecting the accidental avalanche.

“Here, let me help you with that,” a familiar voice offered. Melissa looked up to see Sheriff Stilinski as he rushed over to her aid.

“It’s fine, I’ve got it,” she replied, warily eyeing the approaching store employee. The last thing she needed today was to be reprimanded by someone half her age.

“Nonsense, it’ll be quicker if we both do it,” Stilinski replied. The two of them managed to clear up at least the bulk of the mess before the employee reached them, who reassured them it was alright and that he could take it from there. Melissa expected that to be the end of it but the Sheriff was looking at her with an odd look of concern. “You okay, Melissa? You look a little out of it.”

Melissa smiled at him halfheartedly. “Let’s just say that nearly being crushed to death by Wheat Thins was not the worst part of my day.”

Stilinski winced sympathetically. “Anything I can do to help?”

Sighing sadly, Melissa shook her head. “It’s kinda a mess. You don’t want to get mixed up with it.”

The sheriff raised his eyebrows, giving her a look bordering on exasperation that she knew from experience was usually only reserved for Stiles. “I know Rafe is back in town. He’s been in the station a few times flashing that fancy FBI badge of his. If he’s got anything to do with this...hell, I’m already mixed up in it.”

“I guess you’re right.” Melissa conceded. “But I don’t want to talk about it here. Could you come over to my place?”

“Sure,” the Sheriff replied with a nod. “If you want, I could give you a police escort to finish your shopping. You know, in case any rogue cereal boxes come after you or something.”

In spite of all of the absolutely horrific things leading up to this moment, Melissa couldn’t help but smile. “Why not?”

 

* * *

 

By the time Melissa finished putting all of her groceries away, the Sheriff had returned after a slight detour to his own house to drop off his own haul. Leading him into the living room, she sank into the sofa, literally because it was so old it barely supported weight anymore. Melissa closed her eyes briefly, momentarily shutting out the rest of the world.

“Rafe wants us to get back together,” she started, cutting right to the chase.

“You’re joking, right?” The Sheriff asked, his eyebrows shooting high towards his forehead though his tone betrayed his lack of surprise.

Melissa huffed. “I wish. And of course he brings this up just as I am leaving the hospital after one of worst shifts of my entire career.”

“He still with Carrie?”

“Yeah,” Melissa said bitterly. “They forget that they have a son for more than five years and then suddenly want to go back to like it all was before.”

“So I take it that their whole ‘we were meant to be a couple’ experiment didn’t work out all that well, then,” Stilinski replied.

“Seems like it.” Melissa groaned, her head falling into her hands as she rubbed her temples vigorously. “It gets worse. He threatened he’d get the courts involved if I didn’t agree, and you know the odds of a judge supporting a single parent over a complete triad.”

The Sheriff’s eyes grew dark with barely contained indignation. “I always knew he was a bastard, but sheesh. This is low, even for him.”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do. I can’t be in that relationship again, I just can’t. I didn’t realize how unhealthy it was for me until they left…And it’s so absurd, Scott’s going to be of age in a month, it’s not like this is going to radically affect his home life during his developmental years.”

“Hey, hey,” Stilinski soothed as he took a seat next to her, the couch dipping even further under his weight. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder; instinctively, she moved toward him. “We’re not gonna let that happen. We’ll figure something out.”

“Like what?” Melissa asked, cocking her eyebrow questioningly, trying keep the desperation and helplessness that was welling up inside from breaking the surface. She couldn’t let that happen; it would be like letting her exes win.

“Well,” Stilinski began. “They can’t force you back into a relationship with them if you’re already with someone else.”

Melissa snorted. “The last date I went on ended in me almost getting killed by Derek Hale’s psycho uncle.”

“What about me?” Stilinski asked, his voice suddenly softer and almost...vulnerable? Melissa pulled back a little, craning her neck to look at him properly.

“You? But we aren’t...not that you aren’t a great friend or anything, but it’ll look suspicious if we suddenly get together now.”

The Sheriff shrugged. “We were keeping it under wraps until we knew it was the real deal because we didn’t want to get the kids’ hopes up but then this whole mess forced our hand and we had no choice but to go public with our relationship.”

Melissa shook her head resolutely. “We’d still only be a couple…”

“Which would put us on even footing with them in terms of home environment,” he reminded her. “Plus, I actually have a relationship with Scott…”

“If someone found out...you could lose your job...or worse.”

The Sheriff laughed. “Mel, I almost lose my job every other day as it is. I think I’ll manage to make it through this. It’s for a good cause.”

Taking a deep breath, Melissa nodded. “Okay, yeah then. Let’s do this, Sher.”

Just then the doorbell rang. Frowning, Melissa stood to answer it. “If Scott lost his keys again, I swear…” she muttered. Her eyes widened in surprise when she opened the door to find Chris Argent standing on the other side. “Oh hello,” she greeted, gesturing for him to enter.

“Hey Melissa, is Allison ready?”

Melissa frowned. “The kids are still out. I wasn’t expecting them back until after dinner.”

Chris frowned, digging around in his phone. Swiping his fingers over the screen a few times, he finally found what he was looking for, shaking his head and sighing heavily. “I’m so sorry, I was looking at the wrong text.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Melissa assured him. “Would you like to wait here? I was just thinking of heating something up for me and the Sheriff.”

“Stilinski,” Chris greeted.

“Argent,” Stilinski replied with a polite nod. “Hey, Mel, how about you get your favorite take-out menu, my treat. We’re celebrating after all.”

“Oh?” Chris asked, raising an eyebrow inquiringly.

Melissa glanced at the Sheriff. She knew that they had to keep this whole arrangement on the down low, but if anyone knew how to keep a secret it would be Chris Argent. Deep in her gut, Melissa knew they could trust him. “My exes are trying to force me back into a partnership with them, so the Sheriff and I are getting hitched.”

“Ah,” Chris replied, completely nonplussed. “Just the two of you?”

“Yeah,” Melissa said. “It’s something at least.”

Chris looked back and forth between the two of them. “Want a full triad?”

“Wait, what?”

“I mean, your case would be stronger if you had a complete family unit. And I’d hate to see a friend get hurt by some antiquated laws. Look, I know how hard it is to be a single parent. Actually,” he let out a sad chuckle. “That’s one thing we all have in common. And it’s a little better for the Sheriff and myself being widowers and all, at least in the eyes of society. But it’s still not easy having no-one else. And I could think of much worse things than being partnered with two friends that you know will always have your back.”

Melissa blinked dumbly; her head spun with the sudden turn around the night had taken. “Thank you, I appreciate it, I really do...but will people buy it? It’s already going to be a tough sell with just one secret boyfriend let alone two.”

“Nah, it’s perfect,” Stilinski chipped in. “We didn’t want to make things difficult for Scott and Allison by making our relationship public before our hands were forced. It’ll work.”

“Besides,” Chris added, “I think we’ve all been through enough together these past few years that people at least know we are friends. It’s not that far of a stretch. I’m in if you are.”

Melissa nodded. “I can’t believe it but yes, yes.”

“Well then,” Chris started, beckoning the Sheriff over before sinking to his knees and taking her right hand, which Stilinski repeated the gesture on the other side.

“Will you marry us?” they asked in unison.

Eyes crinkling up in happiness as she barely contained the laughter that seemed to be her only natural response to the situation, Melissa nodded vigorously. “Yes, yes I will.”

They all started at a sudden thud behind them. Turning around slowly, Melissa saw Scott, Stiles, Allison, and Lydia standing in the doorway with a dumbfounded look on their faces.

“Mom…” Scott asked hesitatingly. “What the heck is going on?”


	2. Chapter Two

“Mom?” Scott asked again, his voice wavering slightly in confusion. “What?”

His mother glanced at the Sheriff and Mr. Argent, who slowly pushed themselves into standing positions as they awkwardly met the eyes of their own children. “Scott, honey, come into the kitchen, let’s talk.”

Nodding dumbly, Scott followed, his head spinning, feeling blindsided. Once they left the room and his mother shut the door firmly closed behind them, he turned to face her, arms crossed tightly over his chest. “What’s going on and why am I only hearing about this now?” he demanded frantically. Logically, he knew any decision she made about her love life was hers to make but why would she hide something like this from him? It wasn’t like her. What if something was wrong?

“Honey, calm down, I’ll explain everything, okay?” He nodded reluctantly. “Rafe and Carrie are back in town.”

“Oh.” The bottom dropped out from Scott’s stomach. He hadn’t received as much as a birthday card from them in years. He knew that technically they were his parents just as much as his mom was, but they had stopped being that in his heart a long time ago. He had accepted that they left his life and had made his peace with it. A peace which was now apparently about to be shattered into a million tiny shards. “What do they want?”

“Us.” His mother made a face. “Well, more specifically me. They want me back.”

Scott’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Oh really?”

“Your father threatened legal action if I didn’t cooperate.” Protective anger swelled in Scott’s chest. He knew his mother could take care of herself, but the idea of someone trying to take advantage of her like this… “I ran into the Sheriff right after this all went down and he offered to help me out. Then Chris showed up and he offered too. This literally just happened, I wasn’t trying to keep anything from you, Scott, I promise.”

Sighing heavily, Scott pulled his mother into a hug. “I know Mom,” he whispered into her hair. “It was just a shock…”

“Don’t worry about it,” she reassured him. “It was to me too.”

“They aren’t going to touch you,” Scott reassured her. “I won’t let them.”

His mother cupped his face gently with her hands. “I appreciate the sentiment, but you don’t have to worry, okay? We’ve got this.”

Nodding, Scott gestured towards the living room. “We should probably check on the others.”

* * *

Everything stopped making sense the moment they walked in the door. Once Scott left with his mother, Allison dimly heard her father talking to her, trying to draw her away from her friends, but it was like she was underwater, seeing his lips move and instinctively knowing that sound was coming out but no words reached her ears. Suddenly, a cool hand slipped into hers. Startled, she looked over to see Lydia looking at her, concerned. “Honey, go with your father.” Her voice was as clear as day, the sound shocking Allison’s system like she had been plunged into a vat of ice water. Before she could move, Lydia placed a soft kiss on her cheek, the touch grounding her spinning head. Nodding, she stepped forward, following her father to the other side of the room.

“How can you do this?” she choked out once they were as close to alone as one could be in a room with other people. “How can you do this to Mom? She’s barely been gone a year and now you’re about to marry my boyfriend’s mother?”

“Allison, listen to me,” her father instructed. “It’s not like that.”

“Then tell me what it’s like, then.”

“Melissa needed help. I was in a position to give it to her. That’s all.”

Allison scoffed. “What help could she possibly need where she needs a couple of random husbands?”

“Scott’s other parents want her back after they abandoned the both of them years ago. She doesn’t want the courts forcing her back into that relationship.”

“Oh,” Allison replied, feeling guilty. Scott had told her a little about his other parents, knew that he wanted nothing to do with them. And the idea of being coerced into a marriage horrified her. “I guess you have a point.”

“Look,” her father continued, placing a hand lovingly on her shoulder. “I’m always going to love your Mom. Both of them. I know you weren’t really old enough to remember Elaine, but...at least I still had your mother.” He sniffed loudly, wiggling his nose as he took a few seconds to regain his composure. “It’s not easy being alone.”

“Dad,” Allison replied hurriedly. “You’re not alone. I’m here, I always will be.”

He chuckled softly, his voice thick with tears held back by decades of experience. “I know. But it’s different, you know that. It will be nice to have a partner again, even under less than normal circumstances.”

That’s when the reality of her previous words hit her. “Oh my god, what about me and Scott? What will this do to our relationship? Oh god, we’re going to be step-siblings....”

“You shouldn’t have a problem. You two were dating long before we’re even going to claim that this relationship started. You get priority. I know it’s unusual, but there is precedent.”

Allison frowned. “How could you possibly know that?”

He smiled at her sheepishly. “I may or may not have researched this on the off chance something like this would happen one day.”

Arching an eyebrow at her father, Allison shook her head. “Come on, we need to get our stories straight.”

* * *

After Allison and Chris left to talk things over, the Sheriff approached Stiles cautiously. After seeing the way Scott and Allison had reacted to the news, there was no telling how his son would take it.

“So....” Stiles started, his voice even and his face as blank as a fresh sheet of paper. “You’re getting hitched.” The Sheriff nodded, gulping nervously. It was absurd, he was a grown man who had faced countless gun wielding fiends, yet in this moment he was terrified of his own son. He wasn’t left in suspense for long. The instant Stiles’ face broke out into a grin he knew there was no cause for alarm. “Congrats!” Stiles exclaimed, rushing towards him to embrace him in a hug that ended in a few back slaps.

The Sheriff pulled back. “So you’re not upset?”

Stiles snorted. “Please, I’ve been rooting for you and Melissa to get together for years. She’s practically been a mother to me for half my life.”

The Sheriff smiled in relief, a feeling of total and complete love for his child pouring out of him in a way that still took him by surprise after eighteen years. “Yeah, she really has, hasn’t she?”

Shoving his hands in his pocket the way he did when he was nervous about something, Stiles shifted uneasily between each foot. “Why now, though? You’re not sick or anything and want me to be taken care of...”

“Heck no,” the Sheriff reassured him. “Rafe and Carrie are back.”

“Ah,” Stiles replied as if he needed no further explanation. He probably didn’t, he had seen firsthand how utterly destroyed Scott had been when they left, and the kid was clever enough to probably know even more than that. “They want them back, after all this time.” Stiles snorted. “Too little, too late.”

“I know,” the Sheriff agreed. “Which is why we have to sell this as real. A lot is at stake.”

“Anything you need, Dad, I’m there.”

* * *

After emotions somewhat subsided, everyone regrouped in the living room, Stiles, Scott and Alison lined up on the couch, Chris, Stilinski and Melissa sitting across from them. Lydia sat slightly off to the side, legs primly crossed and hands resting on her lap. She was worried about her partners still, wanted to be there for them, but also wanted to give them space. And as much as she loved them, they rarely were on the same wavelength when it came to things like this. Better to wait for them to tell her what they need.

“Alright, we have to get on the same page,” Allison’s father instructed. “Melissa and the Sheriff started dating about a year ago, Scott and Stiles knew about it but everyone kept it low key because they didn’t want to make any kind of big announcement until they knew where they wanted to take the relationship. Then a few months back I started to come into the picture but we kept it quiet because we didn’t want to make things difficult for Allison and Scott. But now that Melissa’s exes have come back, we realized that we need to bring our relationship to light so we don’t lose her.”

“That sounds alright,” Scott’s mother concurred. “I just hope we can sell this.”

“We will, right guys?” Scott reassured her, looking around to the rest of his friends who nodded in agreement.

“We’re going to need witnesses. At least two,” the Sheriff instructed.

“I’d love to,” Stiles volunteered, but his father shook his head.

“They can’t be related to us.”

Melissa looked concerned. “I don’t think we should let too many people in on this, more of a risk of getting found out.”

“I’ll do it,” Lydia volunteered. “I mean, I know everything anyways. Besides, I have a bit of a vested interest in all of your happiness.” Allison smiled at her warmly, followed by Scott.

“Thank you Lydia, that will be wonderful,” Allison’s father informed her. “Now we need one more.”

“How about Derek? I know he isn’t your favorite person, Mr. Argent, but he’s reliable,” Scott offered.

Allison’s father frowned. “Are you sure he can be trusted?”

“I trust him with my life,” Scott assured him seriously.

“Well then, it’s settled.” Allison’s father stood. “I guess all that’s left is to get a good night’s sleep and call the courthouse in the morning.”

“I’ll see if I can pull some strings, get things going as soon as possible,” the Sheriff suggested.

“Thank you, all of you,” Scott’s mother announced, looking very tired and overwhelmed, but definitely hopeful. “I know this is a lot to ask of everyone, but that fact that you offered...it means so much to me, to us. Thank you.”

Allison’s father grinned. “What are friends for anyway?”

* * *

After Scott left to talk to Derek, Chris pulled the Sheriff aside. “Before we head off, I have a question for you.”

“Shoot,” the Sheriff returned amicably.

“Look, if we’re getting married…what the heck do I call you? I can’t really go around calling my husband Stilinski or the Sheriff.”

“I suppose not,” the Sheriff sighed. “The thing is…”

“That’s all he likes to go by,” Melissa finished for him, looping an arm over the Sheriff’s shoulder. “He hates his first name.”

“I do not hate-”

“You definitely have told me that once. One night when you drunkenly called me.” Chris felt self-conscious suddenly; there was so much history between them that he was just not a part of. Uncertainty gripped him in that moment, wondering if he was making a huge mistake. “Anyways,” she continued, turning back to Chris. “That’s why I call him Sher.”

“You like that?” Chris asked, eyebrow arched questioningly.

“It works,” Stilinski replied. Chris could maybe see himself calling the guy Sher as a nickname to his face, but in his head it just didn’t click.

“Alright. Sher it is then.”

* * *

Derek frowned at the knock on the door. Nothing good ever happened when he got a visitor after ten o’clock. He was going to just ignore it, knowing that if anyone was going to cause trouble, they would come in anyways. “Derek, I know you’re in there,” he faintly heard Scott’s voice coming from the other side of the door. He jumped up at the familiar sound, making his way to the entrance as quickly as possible, worried that something was wrong.

“Hey,” he greeted, reaching out with his senses to see if he could get a read on Scott’s emotions. What he did get wasn’t reassuring. “What’s up?”

“I need your help.”

Derek gestured Scott to follow him inside. Scott settled down nervously on the sofa and Derek situated himself on the coffee table across from him. “What do you need me to do?”

“Can you be a witness at my mom’s wedding?”

Derek frowned. He had definitely seen Scott’s mother and Stiles’ father together a lot, but most of those times had been near death experiences. He hadn’t been aware that they had been romantically involved. “Congratulations? I didn’t realize that she was seeing anyone.”

Scott scoffed. “She wasn’t. It’s kind of a complicated situation...and you can’t tell anyone.”

“You can trust me, Scott. I’ll keep quiet.”

Scott smiled warmly, and in that moment Derek felt eternally grateful that he finally had a friend in his life that could look at him like that. “I know. That was never a question. And thank you.”

“So when’s the wedding?”

“We don’t know exactly, but hopefully in the next day or so. It’s kind of urgent,” Scott informed him with a shrug.

“Is she alright? Why the rush?” He felt guilty, like he had said something wrong by the fallen look on Scott’s face.

“My other parents are back in town after leaving us behind to be a couple together somewhere else. Now they’ve had a change of heart.” Derek was surprised to hear the venom in his friend’s voice, he’d never seen Scott get this upset before, and that was saying something considering what they had been through together. But even at the worst of times, Scott managed to keep his cool; seeing him unraveling at the edges was slightly disconcerting to say the very least.

“Wow,” Derek muttered, at a loss of what to say.

“Yeah.”

“Whatever you need, alright? Even if it’s just to vent.”

“Thanks, Derek,” Scott replied. “I’ll let you know the details when I get them.”

“Um, how fancy will this be?” Derek asked with hesitation.

Scott shrugged, making a face. “I don’t know, I mean, we’re going to the courthouse, so nice I guess?”

“Ah. Right.”

“Is that a problem?” Scott asked, looking perplexed.

Derek scratched the back of his neck absentmindedly. “I, uh...most of my wardrobe consists of t-shirts.”

“Even when you were arrested? Didn’t you have to appear in court?” Scott asked incredulously.

Derek shook his head sheepishly. “I never quite got that far.”

Scott snorted. “Just wear the nicest shirt you have, we’ll get you something to dress it up a bit. Don’t worry.”

Derek huffed out a soft chuckle. “Thanks.”


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight warning for emotional abuse but it's very minor.

“Hey,” Melissa looked up as Sheriff swaggered towards her in full uniform, badge glistening in the harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital.

“Hey yourself,” she replied, standing up as he approached. The Sheriff looked around furtively before leaning over and kissing her softly on the cheek. He pulled back quickly, leaving Melissa blinking in surprise. He smiled at her bashfully, his eyes searching for a sign that he had misstepped. Instead, she grinned at him, taken aback by how easy it all felt to keep up appearances. “What’s up?”

“How soon can you get off work?” the Sheriff asked, leaning up against the desk.

“I have another few hours on my shift, why?” Melissa asked, even though she knew the only thing he could be referring to.

“I got us an appointment at four this afternoon. It was the soonest I could get it and I figured the kids would want to be there and everything…” He rambled off, scratching the back of his neck as if suddenly self conscious.

“Perfect,” Melissa assured him, the relief flowing through her entire being. Only a few more hours and she would be safe from any immediate danger. “Sher…thanks.”

Winking at her, he turned to leave. “Don’t mention it.”

Melissa caught herself being a little more attentive to his ass as he walked away. She was almost certain it was swinging a little more than usual, possibly for her own benefit. It was perfectly acceptable to ogle one’s fiancé, right? Melissa shook herself, forcing her eyes back to the screen of her computer. She had to focus, get through this shift and get to the courthouse, get to the wedding. Burying herself in her work, Melissa fought back the nerves suddenly flaring in her stomach, her mind wondering if she was making a terrible, self-serving mistake.

* * *

Scott rushed out of the school building as soon as the final bell rang, impatient to get home and to the courthouse in time. His mother texted him the good news around lunchtime and he hadn’t been able to focus since. And from what he could see, neither could the rest of his friends. He was just slinging his leg over the side of his bike when he sensed someone behind him.

“Scott?” the man asked as he turned around to face him. His heart pounded heavily in his chest. He had to play it cool, he couldn’t tip him off.

“I don’t want to have anything to do with you,” Scott snapped, turning to face the front of his bike, fumbling with the controls.

“Is that any way to speak to your father?” the man chided. Scott rolled his eyes, wanting to just speed away but something was stopping him. Instead, he slid off the bike and faced his father head on. He was a lot shorter than he remembered, though of course Scott had been much smaller when he and Carrie left. Otherwise, he looked mostly the same, though a few strands of grey streaked his jet black hair and there were more wrinkles crisscrossing his forehead.

“I don’t have a father,” Scott replied tersely. “Only a sperm donor.”

The other man sighed heavily. “Scott, we used to have a relationship, remember? When you were a kid? I remember that time-”

“No. You do not get to up and leave us and then act like it’s my fault for rejecting you,” Scott reprimanded, internally trying to keep his anger in check. It wouldn’t help anyone if he wolfed out right now.

“That’s why I’m back. To make things right.”

Scott frowned. “I? So is Carrie not with you then?”

His father shifted from one foot to the other uncomfortably. “She wasn’t really in a condition to make the trip.”

“Is she okay?” Scott asked, suddenly feeling guilty for his spiteful emotions. Carrie had been a mother to him at one point, if she wasn’t well, he didn’t want to wish her ill. “Is she sick or something? Is that what all this is about?”

“She’s fine, she’s fine,” his father assured him. “She’s just in a bit of a delicate situation at the moment.”

The words clicked into place in Scott’s head. “Oh my god. She’s pregnant, isn’t she?”

“Well, yes, but-”

“You don’t want to deal with having a kid outside of a triad. You don’t want Mom back because of me, you want her back to trap her with a kid for another eighteen years,” Scott accused.

“Scott, you don’t understand how difficult the laws make it-”

Scott scoffed. “I know well enough. I spent the past five years with a single mother who had to put up with more than her fair share of bureaucratic red tape all because she was dumped by a couple of losers. Look, I get that couples work for some people, and I respect that. But I think it was a convenient excuse to get rid of the wife and child who were weighing you down. Let me tell you something; it’s not going to work. You aren’t getting us back. Ever.”

His father shook his head. “I don’t think you have a say in the matter.”

Scott snorted as he jumped onto his bike, revving the engine to life as he slid his helmet on. “I don’t think you do either.” With that, he slid his visor down and sped off as quickly as one can while obeying traffic laws, praying to some higher power that the wedding could take place before his father caught wind of it.

* * *

Scott could barely contain his swirling emotions as he arrived home, contemplating if he had time to shower quickly and scrub the grimy feeling suffocating him since his run in with his father. Unfortunately, he didn’t; his mother wanted him at the courthouse early and he barely had time to brush his teeth and hair and change into his suit. He bounded up the stairs, rounding the corner to his room when he spotted his mother coming down the hallway. Stopping in his tracks as best he could, Scott flailed slightly, stunned by her appearance.

There had been so few times in as long as he could remember that his mother had an opportunity to get dressed up. Her scrubs were an almost constant accessory and the rest of her wardrobe, while not shabby by any means, remained decidedly casual. But the woman standing before him had been transformed, her hair held up by a few sparkling clips and her face carefully painted in makeup he was certain he’d never seen her in before. A simple white dress graced her frame, accented by a gorgeous diamond necklace Scott knew to be a gift from one of her grandmothers. “Wow,” he gasped, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

His mother smiled at him shyly and a little self-conscious. “I take it I look okay then?” she asked with a look of hesitation plastered across her face.

“Mom,” Scott lovingly chided as he pulled her into a hug, kissing her softly on the cheek. “You look gorgeous. Not that you don’t normally…” he was quick to fix his error.

“Scott, it’s fine. You go get ready, we’ve got to get going soon.” Before he could walk away, his mother frowned, looking at him closer. “Sweetie, you okay?”

Scott forced a smile onto his face. He really should tell her, but she looked so happy, so full of hope…he couldn’t ruin this day for her. It certainly wasn’t a traditional wedding day, but it still could be special. He’d fill her in later. “It’s not every day your mother gets hitched, you know? It’s emotional.”

“You get why I’m doing this, right?” she asked, taking both of his hands in her own, still so concerned that she was hurting him when in reality she was doing anything but. He supposed it had something to do with being a parent, that constant worry. Well, part of being a good one at least.

“More than you know,” he assured her. “Come on, I got to get changed, I don’t want to make us late.”

* * *

Derek sat in the parking lot of the courthouse for a good ten minutes before going inside. He felt woefully underdressed, though he had managed to scrounge up a suit jacket from the back of his closet and he did have a dress shirt or two. He had picked the nicest pair of jeans he could find; it wasn’t perfect, but was the best he could do. But it wasn’t just his clothes that gave him pause.

It wasn’t that he doubted Scott’s sincerity; if anything, Scott McCall was one of the people in this world that he trusted absolutely and completely. But though he was close to Scott and most of his friends, their parents were another matter. They had met and interacted over the past few years, of course. But now here he was standing up for them at their wedding and at least one of them would like him dead. Derek sighed. He had given his word to Scott; he knew how important this was for his friend. He would not go back on his promise.

Attempting to shake out the tension that had taken up residence in his shoulders, Derek shoved the door of his Camaro open, smoothing his suit as she stood outside the vehicle. Quickly making his way inside the courthouse, Derek followed the signs towards the office of the Justice of the Peace. After turning a corner, Derek caught sight of the wedding party farther down the wood paneled hallway. Stiles looked up as he approached, smiling and digging around in his suit pocket (and wow did he clean up well) before walking in Derek’s direction.

“I brought you something,” Stiles informed him.

“Oh?”

Stiles pulled a long strip of fabric from the confines of his pocket. “I thought I’d help you class up this look.” He held the tie out towards Derek, shaking it slightly.

Derek took the object, the material smooth between his fingers. Upon closer examination of the article, however, he frowned. “Really?” he asked Stiles in exasperation, one eyebrow cocked in a mix of annoyance and affection. Not that he would let the second emotion show at all.

“I think it’s cute.”

“Where the hell did you find a tie with tiny wolves on it?” Derek returned, ignoring Stiles, who shrugged.

“That’s what the internet’s for, dummy. It was supposed to be your birthday present,” Stiles informed him.

A tight feeling gripped Derek’s chest and he could feel his features soften against his wish to remain intimidating and aloof. “You got me a birthday present?” he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief and appreciation.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Duh, you’re my friend. I didn’t actually know when it was though… Come on, put the damn thing on, we’ve got a wedding to get to.”

The foreign warm fuzzy feeling that had started to blossom in his stomach was immediately extinguished.

“I...uh…can’t.”

Stiles’ eyes widened. “Don’t tell me that big bad Derek doesn’t know how to tie a tie.”

“It’s been years since I wore one,” Derek replied. “Last time I did my mom helped me.” It had been a recital for Laura if he remembered correctly. He had fought so hard to get his mother to forget about it, but she wouldn’t hear of it.

Stiles’ face softened at the mention of his mother. “Come here, momma’s boy,” he joked, but there was clearly no malice behind his words. He grabbed the tie back out of Derek’s hands before looping it around his own neck, deftly coercing the strip into a knot with nimble, enticing fingers. Stiles slid his handiwork over his head and, stepping forward, tugged it over Derek’s head. As Stiles tucked the tie under his collar, Derek’s breath hitched. Their eyes locked and for the briefest of moments there was a palpable tension between them, not negative but certainly not sexual...Derek couldn’t describe it. The spell was broken as Stiles’ features melted into a smirk and Derek could feel his face heating up from embarrassment.

“Oh shut up,” Derek grumbled, trying his best to school his face into neutrality but failing miserably as a tiny smile kept battling its way onto his lips.

“I said nothing,” Stiles insisted, smoothing down the tie and brushing the shoulders of Derek’s suit. “There you go.”

“Thanks,” Derek muttered.

They were distracted by the loud click of heels approaching them. Looking up, Derek saw Lydia striding quickly in their direction, wearing a knee length jade dress that fit her perfectly. Her hair was twisted up on top of her head in some kind of bun with little tufts of red falling down in an artfully arranged manner. “Mind if I steal this one?” she asked Stiles, taking Derek’s arm and gently linking them together.

“Yeah, I, um, should go check on my dad. See you guys in a few minutes?” Stiles asked, stumbling a bit over his words.

“Of course,” Derek reassured him, and somehow there was a noticeable shift in Stiles’ demeanor. Smiling, his young friend turned down the hall towards the rest of the group. Derek turned towards Lydia, his heart pounding from her proximity. He shook himself mentally. This was different than anything between him and Stiles; Lydia was in a full relationship, with Scott no less. She was off limits. Besides, he highly doubted that she’d ever be interested in someone like him...she’d already had so much better. He knew that whatever he felt for her was not reciprocated, and he had come to terms with that. Mostly. “You look stunning.”

Lydia smirked up at him, fully aware of her impeccable appearance. “Thank you. You look…” she looked him up and down. “Like you need a new suit.”

Derek winced in embarrassment, feeling even more underdressed next to Lydia. “Sorry.”

She shrugged, eyes shining bright. “Don’t worry, I’ll take you shopping,” she assured him. “Come on, we’re going to be late.”

“Have you ever been to a wedding before?” he asked as they walked down the hall towards where the rest of the party had entered the judge’s chambers.

“Once,” Lydia replied. “I was a little girl, so I don’t remember it very well. But it was a nice ceremony, outside I think. This should be different.”

“It could still be nice.”

“You know what I mean.”

They grew silent as they entered their destination, careful not to say anything that could jeopardize the impending union.

“These are our witnesses,” Scott’s mother informed the judge at their arrival. “Derek Hale and Lydia Martin.”

The judge peered over her half-moon glasses at them. “They are of age?” she asked, her white eyebrows quirking up towards her hairline.

“We are,” Derek replied.

“Identification?” the judge asked, holding out a hand expectantly. Derek fished his wallet out of his pants pocket while Lydia rifled through her purse. They handed their driver’s licenses over to the judge who examined them carefully before returning the plastic cards over to their owners. “Very well. And the others?”

“Our children,” Chris informed her.

“Right, right,” the judge muttered, scribbling a few notes. “Two of you are widowed, Ms. McCall you are not, correct?”

Scott’s mother looked at the Sheriff anxiously. “We’ve been divorced for over five years.”

“Because…?” the judge prompted.

“My spouses decided that they wanted to be a couple so they left me to raise our son alone,” Scott’s mother replied tersely, clearly on edge.

The judge made a clicking sound in her throat, shaking her head. “Unconscionable. While I’ll defend the rights of couples with my dying breath, I’ll never understand parents who abandon a child. Very well, let’s continue with the proceedings.” She stood up from behind her desk, directing the others with various hand gestures. “You three stand in a circle and hold hands. Witnesses, join me and stand right behind their linked arms. The rest of you can circle around wherever you’d like.”

With a slight squeeze to Lydia’s hand, Derek let her go to take his place between Scott’s mom and the Sheriff. He was still a little afraid of Argent and was thankful that Lydia was willing to give him the easier side. But his feelings weren’t important today. He looked at the faces of the three adults holding hands. There were nerves there, sure, but there was something else there besides deception. He picked up on a whole slew of emotions, many of which were varying degrees of excitement. Derek had a feeling that this marriage was going to be more than what they bargained for, but that didn’t have to be a bad thing.

“We are gathered here today,” the judge began, “to bind together these men and this woman in matrimony. If any oppose this union, speak now or forever hold your peace.” Derek held his breath along with the rest of the room, convinced somehow that Scott’s father somehow would have heard of the proceedings and would burst into the courtroom on cue. Thankfully, the door to the chambers remained firmly shut. The judge proceeded, leading the three through the standard vows before calling for the rings, which Stiles hastily fished out of his jacket pocket after a minute of frantic searching and panic. Each adult held the simple golden band in their right hand, and the judge asked each of them in turn if they took the others for their spouse. After all three had said I do, they simultaneously slid the ring onto the left hand of the person in their right before taking hands in the circle once again. “You may now seal the bond,” the judge instructed. They moved their hands into the center of the circle, each individual’s hands together in front of them with one of either partner’s on each side. They leaned towards the mass of hands, kissing the place where all three of them overlapped. Once they were finished, the judge passed him and Lydia cards to read from. “Witnesses, what have you to say?”

“Under oath of law, we have witnessed the bonding of this union and shall affirm its security.”

“Wonderful,” the judge proclaimed. “I now pronounce you legally wed. Now if you and your witnesses can just sign the marriage license, we can be on our way.”

After a whirl of papers and fancy pens and a swoopy signature, the judge bid them farewell and luck on the new marriage and the entire group left the room. Argent announced that he had managed to get them a reservation at a fairly nice restaurant to celebrate. Derek tried getting out of it; he knew that Buscetti’s was a bit fancier than his current attire would allow. But everyone, even Argent, turned on the charm to convince him otherwise. This was a celebration, and he would try his best not to ruin that.

* * *

Scott tried to enjoy the wedding meal, he really did. But he couldn’t help but dwell on his conversation with his father earlier in the evening. He knew that he had to tell his mother at some point, but for the first time since this whole mess started she looked so happy and relaxed and safe that he couldn’t do that to her, not yet. He wasn’t sure how she would take the news. Allison seemed to notice that he wasn’t entirely himself, reaching over under the table to firmly take his hand. Smiling, he leaned over and kissed her on the cheek softly before turning back to his pasta and the conversation, determined not to let his father ruin this special evening.

They were just about to start on dessert when Stiles’ dad rose to give a toast. Scott glanced over at his mother, who looked surprised but pleased. “To my beautiful new wife and my rugged new husband,” Allison’s father raised his eyebrow, biting back a smirk. “Come on, did you want me to call you beautiful? Anyways, I look forward to starting the rest of our lives together. We’ve all known what it’s like to be alone, but now...we have our new family. We won’t be alone anymore. So thank you for that and thank you for being the best friends a guy could ask for and thank you for agreeing to marry me.” Scott knew they had to keep up pretenses in public, but he had a feeling that it wasn’t all a guise. He had a sneaking suspicion that the Sheriff had feelings for his mother for years; at one point he and Stiles had attempted to set their parents up on a date, but that failed more to the eleven year old’s lack of understanding of the dating process than lack of feelings on their parent’s part.

“Hear, hear,” his mother praised, holding up her glass of wine, and the sentiment was echoed by Mr. Argent.

“Did I hear that correctly?” a familiar voice interrupted. The color drained from his mothers face until it was so pale it almost matched the dress she was wearing. “Married?”

“Are you stalking me?” his mother asked, her voice shaky though she was clearly trying her best not to show it.

His father smirked down at them. “This is a public establishment, Melissa. Anyone can have dinner here.” He glanced at the ring prominently sitting on her finger. “That’s new.”

“Very observant,” the Sheriff replied dryly.

Scott’s father leered at the Sheriff. “Still as charming as ever, Stilinski. I don’t suppose this little sudden wedding had anything to do with me? Because you do know the penalties for fraudulent marriage. I’m sure you’ve arrested a few violators over the years, right Sheriff?”

The Sheriff crossed his arms firmly across his chest. “As a matter of fact, it did have to do with you. We’d been talking about getting married for a while, but with you sniffing around again, we figured why wait.”

“Hmmph,” Scott’s father replied. “It won’t hold up. Carrie and I are offering you a triad-”

“She already has one,” Allison’s father spoke up for the first time. “Chris Argent, Melissa’s husband. I suppose you’re Scott’s father.” He held out his hand expectantly, a schooled but cool expression on his face.

“Uh, yes, yes, of course,” Rafe replied, shaking the hand though visibly flustered. “So you…?”

Mr. Argent looked over at his mother and the Sheriff with what he could only describe as heart eyes, a very confusing sight but he was thankful to him for such dramatics on his mother’s behalf. “I’m in love.” Allison squeezed his hand tightly next to him, her face as carefully controlled as her father’s but her body was almost imperceptibly trembling with hidden laughter. Scott looked quickly away, worried that he would join in her mirth, though he was much less capable of hiding an outburst. “I haven’t known these two as long as they have known each other, but when we met, we just...clicked.”

“How long has that been exactly?” his father pressed.

“About a year,” Argent replied. “We kept it kind of quiet; we didn’t want to give our kids trouble at school. I’m sure you know how nasty people can be. But like he said...we realized that we could lose the family we’d built, and we couldn’t have that.” His voice actually cracked. Scott decided that he would learn how to make a cake and bake one for him. Maybe Allison knew how. Or Derek.

“I see,” his father replied icily. “Well. I’ll leave you too your dinner. Congratulations,” he added before slinking off, though the words felt hollow. As he left, he made eye-contact with Scott, as if challenging him to chime in. But Scott wouldn’t give him that kind of satisfaction.

Once the coast was clear, his mother slumped back in her seat with both of her new husbands rubbing her shoulders soothingly. “I thought this was over.”

“He’d have found out eventually,” Mr. Argent reminded her.

“I know, I know. It would have been nice to have one night, you know? I knew a fight was coming, but I thought we’d have at least a day or two to regroup.”

“I wonder why, after all these years he’s suddenly interested again?” the Sheriff posited.

“I think I know,” Scott announced, figuring now was as good a time as any and he’d prefer that the news came from him. “He found me after school, I didn’t want to tell you and ruin your day. But he told me what was going on. Carrie’s pregnant. That’s why he’s back.”

His mother smiled bitterly. “Of course she is.” She shook her head, a slew of emotions crossing her face and radiating off her body. “But all of this garbage aside, you’re gonna have a baby brother or sister, Scott,” his mother reminded him. He’d been so focused on the harm the baby could cause his mother that he had almost overlooked their own connection.

“Yeah, I guess I am,” he replied.

“It’ll be good,” she told him, reaching across the table. “They’ll have the best big brother on the planet and he’ll make sure that they turn out better than their parents.”

“Yeah,” Scott concurred. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before, I just didn’t to mess up tonight.”

“You didn’t,” she assured him, and Scott felt a little better. “Come on, let’s order dessert and forget about this mess while we can, okay?”

“Sounds great, Mom,” Scott replied, forcing himself to try and stay positive because the alternative was just too awful to fathom.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We finally meet Kira!

After the fiasco with his father, Scott was happy for the distraction that school brought the next day. There he had no choice but to focus on his studies; college applications would be due soon and he still was paying for his slump sophomore year when he was first turned. Luckily, he had friends to help with that.

After math class, one of the few he had by himself, Stiles met up with him so they could walk to lunch together. “Dude,” he asked as they dodged their fellow students in the melee. “When do you think we’re moving in?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Well, now that we’re officially family,” Stiles began, clapping him on the shoulder. Scott couldn’t help but grin at that. He and Stiles had been practically brothers almost from the time they met. “I’m assuming we’re all going to shack up. I mean, it would look weird if we didn’t.”

Scott looked around anxiously, worried that someone would hear something and get suspicious. “Yeah, I guess. But those things take time, right?”

“Yeah,” Stiles said, his head bobbing up and down. “How are you and Allison handling all this? I know it must be awkward…”

“To be dating my now half-sister?” Scott filled in, impressed with Stiles’ attempt to be subtle. “Yeah, it’s an adjustment. But we’ll manage.”

“I’m sure Lydia will help you guys, you’re really lucky to have her.”

“Yeah,” Scott agreed, but the words came out flat, his attention distracted as they entered the lunchroom. His eyes were immediately drawn to a petite Asian girl sitting by herself at one of the tables in the corner, scanning a book as she devoured her sandwich. She looked up, somehow directly making eye contact with him, smiling softly with bright eyes as a little bit of lettuce dangled from her lips. He couldn’t help but goofily grin back before she returned to her book. Scott had never seen her before in his life but he felt drawn to her like nothing he had ever felt before.

That wasn’t quite true. It was the same feeling he had with Allison. Suddenly it was as if he had been punched in the gut. He’d never felt that towards Lydia. He cared for her, definitely, but deep down he knew that their bond wasn’t the same as what he shared with Allison. They had needed a third person in their triad after sneaking around failed miserably and Lydia needed someone after Jackson and Isaac left; it had seemed like the perfect solution.

“Scotty, you okay?” Stiles asked, waving a hand in front of Scott’s face. Shaking his head, Scott came back into himself.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Come on, I’m starving.” They walked over to their usual table, Scott deliberately avoiding looking at the new girl even though he felt bad for leaving her to sit by herself, especially when everything in him was screaming to go to her. As they approached, Allison looked up at him, her face anguished and eyes searching him deliberately. He leaned over and kissed her forehead as he took his seat beside her, frowning when she still seemed tightly wound. “What’s up?”

“Did you feel it too?” she asked softly so Stiles wouldn’t hear. Thankfully, he engrossed himself with crunching on a large bag of potato chips, perhaps deliberately attempting to give them some semblance of privacy.

“Feel what?” Scott asked, though she was pretty sure he knew all too well. Allison nodded in the direction of the new girl’s table. Scott glanced over, noticing that she kept sending furtive glances their way. “The new girl?”

“Her name is Kira,” Allison explained. “Her father is the new history teacher.”

“Ah.” He sighed deeply. “Yeah, I felt it.”

“It was like when I met you.”

“I know.”

“What are we going to do, Scott? We can’t do that to Lydia.”

“Can’t do what to Lydia?” Lydia asked as she took a spot next to Allison, kissing her on the cheek. Scott glanced over to Kira, whose mouth was pressed into a thin line and she was blinking rather quickly. She must have felt it too, and seeing that they were already taken must have been hard. But they couldn’t do anything about it right now. It wasn’t like they could break up with Lydia in the middle of the lunchroom. She deserved better than that.

“I wanted to go to the haunted house tomorrow night, but Allison was worried you wouldn’t be up for it because of our close encounters.”

Lydia snorted. “Please, after what we’ve all been through? A haunted house is child’s play. I’m in.”

“Great,” Allison replied, her expression a little strained but trying not to blow their cover.

“It’s a date.”

Maybe not the best word choice.

* * *

Scott didn’t know how he was going to get through the rest of the day. They were going to talk to Lydia later, but he knew that no matter their reasoning she was going to get hurt. Not to mention the hurt Kira must be feeling...but he tried not to dwell on that. Or at least he did until he walked into his history class and she was sitting next to his usual seat. She glanced up as he approached, eyes widening in surprise.

“Hey, sorry, but that’s my seat,” Stiles informed her.

Breaking Scott’s gaze, she blushed, head bowed slightly as she scrambled to collect her things.

“Don’t worry about it,” Scott informed her, interrupting her frantic packing. “Stiles can sit somewhere else today,” he told his best friend with a pointed look.

Stiles mouthed “What the hell, dude?” but Scott just gestured his head behind him. Sighing heavily, Stiles agreed, muttering something about next time Scott would be the one to have to change seats.

“Sorry about him,” Scott replied, trying to be as friendly as possible. “I’m Scott, by the way,” he added, holding out his hand.”

“Kira,” she replied, taking it. Scott swallowed heavily at the contact, his feelings intensifying. “I saw you and your partners in the cafeteria. You make a nice triad.” Her voice was pleasant but tight with held back emotion.

“It’s not quite what it looks like. I mean, it kind of is, but not really,” Scott bumbled. He heard Stiles snort behind him.

“Oh?” Kira asked, questioningly.

“We might not be a triad much longer. You know, if someone else comes along who fits in better. You know how it is.”

“I don’t, actually,” Kira replied. “I’ve never been in a relationship before.”

Scott couldn’t help but grin like an idiot. “You never know, maybe you will be soon.”

* * *

“Dude, did I hear you right? I thought you said you and Allison were fine! You’re breaking up your triad for a girl you know nothing about?” Stiles hissed as they left the classroom.

Scott shook his head. “Allison and I are fine.”

Realization dawned on Stile’s face. “No, dude, come on. How can you break up with Lydia Martin?”

Scott sighed heavily; the question had been weighing him down all day. “I don’t want to. But this is different, trust me. You know as well as anyone that us and Lydia was about convenience, I mean she’s my friend and I’ll always love her, but it’s not like we were all destined for any great romance.”

“I just don’t get it.”

“You will someday,” Scott replied, clapping Stiles on the shoulder. “Sometimes you just know, you can’t explain it but it’s there. You’ll see.”

He tried his best to ignore Stiles’ grumblings on the way to their next class.

* * *

Lydia knew something was off at lunch. Scott and Allison were quieter and more reserved than usual and they barely touched their food. But they invited her over after school and she agreed, knowing that at least they would have some privacy to talk freely. Their odd behavior nagged at her all afternoon, but she pushed it aside, ready to deal with it when it became something to deal with. Her nerves spiked when she arrived, knocking awkwardly on the door, already feeling like an outsider.

Allison opened the door and gave her a strangled smile. “Come in.”

“Okay, I let it go earlier, but what’s wrong?” she demanded, gently grabbing Allison’s upper arm. “Please, just tell me.”

Allison nodded. “That’s why we asked you over. To talk.” They made their way to the living room, Allison sitting next to Scott on the sofa with Lydia sitting across from them.

They sat in an awkward silence for a few moments, Lydia looking at them expectantly. “Well? You wanted to talk, let’s talk. Spill, what’s gotten into you two?”

“First, I just want to say that we’re really sorry about this, we know that it’s not going to be easy-”

“Sorry about what?” Lydia demanded, letting an iciness she never used on them slip into her voice. She had a feeling they needed to be shocked out of whatever stupor this was.

“We can’t see you anymore,” Allison whispered raggedly before staring down at her clasped hands wrangling on her lap.

Lydia frowned, looking down at her lap. “Something’s turning people invisible now? I know this town has its fair share of spookiness, but this is a new one.”

“Lydia…” Scott replied, his eyes and tone indicating that her feeble hopes that it had been an invisibility monster were nowhere near a reality.

“I know, I know,” she sighed, suddenly feeling a little dizzy. “Why?” she asked simply.

Allison kept her gaze on her lap. “There’s someone else.”

Lydia felt her throat constrict. She knew there was always the possibility. They hadn’t started out in the typical manner. But they all loved each other, and a part of her hoped that it would be enough. Apparently she had been wrong. “Who are they?” She forced the words out of her mouth, needing to know yet not really wanting to hear the answer.

“It’s the new girl in our trig class, Kira,” Allison explained, finally looking up. Their eyes met again, both swirling with unshed tears. Lydia couldn’t help but think that Allison looked beautiful. It was an abstract observation, probably her mind’s way of coping with the shock.

“I don’t get it, if she just moved here, how…?”

“Nothing’s happened. Yet.” Scott explained. “We haven’t even approached her. It didn’t feel right when we were with you.”

“How do you know?”

“We both felt it. It was like when Allison and I met each other,” Scott explained. “And I think Kira felt it too. I’m so sorry, Lydia.”

She shook her head, blinking back tears, refusing to cry. “It’s fine, really. I’m happy for you both. We all knew this little arrangement wouldn’t be long term. So harm, no foul. Really.”

“Lydia…”

“No. Enough apologizing. I won’t get in the way of your happiness. I care about you both too much for that.” Lydia slipped the ring off her finger, setting it down on the table. The clink of the wood against metal echoed awkwardly in the room. “Just promise me one thing. Don’t give her my ring. I don’t care if you keep it or sell it or melt it down. Just don’t give it to her.” She stood, smoothing her skirt, the gesture giving her control over something in her crumbling life. “Now I should probably go, why make this harder than it has to be, right?” She nodded curtly at both of them before heading to the door.

She had almost made it when footsteps pattered up behind her. “Lydia, wait,” Allison pleaded. She turned around to face the other woman who had finally lost the battle with her tears, wet trails streaking her face. “I just need you to know something. I need you to know that this wasn’t just friends helping friends for me. I need you to know that I loved you. That I still do. I need you to know that you’re still my best friend. I need you to know that this, that us...we were real.”

“I know,” Lydia replied, her voice tight and raspy from holding in her emotion. “I know.” On a whim, she reached out and grabbed Allison’s hand tightly. “Things are going to be different, but I don’t think I can bear losing you as a friend.”

“God, no,” Allison choked, rushing forward to grab Lydia into a tight hug. Over Allison’s shoulder, she saw Scott watching them, a heartbroken look on his face. She beckoned him over to join the hug.

“So,” Lydia began as they finally pulled apart. “Friends?”

“Friends.”

* * *

Lydia managed to hold it together until she was a few streets away from Scott’s house before she was forced to pull over onto the side of the road, letting her tears roll freely and unashamedly. She wasn’t mad at Scott and Allison; had she been in the same position she would have acted accordingly. But that knowledge didn’t make it hurt any less.

Eventually, she managed to pull herself together enough so that she could finish the drive home. She frowned when she pulled into her driveway behind a familiar Jeep. Sighing, she shoved open her car door, walking determinedly to the front of the house.

“Hey,” Stiles greeted, stumbling out of the car.

“Stiles, not now, I don’t care if the world is ending, go get someone else. I can’t help. Not today.”

“So I take it they talked to you then,” he replied, ignoring her dismissal.

Lydia turned for the first time to look at the gangly boy. But he wasn’t so gangly anymore; his clumsiness only continued to give that impression. She wondered why she hadn’t noticed how attractive he had become. She must have been distracted. “Scott told you?”

Stiles shrugged. “More or less. I told him it was a stupid move, but hey, what can you do, there is only so much you can control your best friend.”

Lydia chuckled softly, in spite of herself. “I don’t blame him. Or Allison. And I think that’s what makes it worse.”

“Look,” Stiles started, shoving his hands awkwardly in his pockets as he leaned back up against the Jeep. “If you want to be by yourself, just say the word and I’ll leave. But if you don’t want to be alone...I’m at your service.”

Lydia hesitated. It didn’t rationally make sense for him to stay and a part of her naturally pushed back against anyone seeing her at her most vulnerable. But the prospect of being left alone with her own thoughts was not a pleasant one. “Okay. Fine. But I get to pick the movie.”

“Done,” Stiles replied with a grin, pushing off the Jeep. “I bought a few provisions just for the occasion. You go on in, I’ll bring them inside.

* * *

A few provisions turned out to be four bags of various flavors of chips (I didn’t know what kind you liked), three cartons of ice cream, a can of whipped cream, and a box of nice chocolate. Lydia knew that eating her feelings was not a productive use of her energy. But what was the harm, she decided after taking her first bowl of ice cream, in indulging after such an emotionally draining day. And since Stiles was around, it wasn’t like she was wallowing in her own filth. It was like what she had been taught about drinking; it’s better to do it socially.

They made it through Mean Girls (which Stiles had apparently never seen before and it was actually kind of adorable how into the whole thing he got; he was so disappointed when, Damian, Janice, and Kevin the math guy didn’t end up together at the end) and were just about to start the first Princess Diaries movie when the doorbell rang. “Want me to get that?” Stiles mumbled around a mouthful of chips. It should have been disgusting. It was disgusting. But somehow, it didn’t matter.

Lydia shook her head. “I got it,” she told him, pushing herself up off of her bed. She was halfway down the stairs when she realized that Stiles was right behind her. “I said I got it.”

Stiles shrugged. “With this town, you can never be too careful.”

“Touché,” she replied as she reached the door, which she opened slowly, peering out at her visitor. Once she saw who it was, however, any hesitation was thrown aside. “Derek, what are you doing here? Did something happen?” He looked nervous, rocking back and forth between his feet, arms clutched behind his back. His face was uncharacteristically soft, though that alone wasn’t that unusual between the two of them these days. But his expression looked like a mix of concern and a sour stomach, something which Lydia couldn’t quite interpret.

“No, no,” Derek assured her. “I just thought you could use a friend.”

“Dude, got that covered,” Stiles informed him, crossing his arms and raising his chin in what must have been an attempt at intimidation. He was acting strangely possessive for no reason at all and she wondered what had gotten into him. Last she knew the two of them were on fairly good terms; she was pretty sure that there was something between them, even if neither of them realized it yet. That thought stirred something in her chest, but she shoved it aside like she always did. It didn’t matter; that wasn’t something she could process right now, not after everything that happened.

“What makes you think that?” Lydia asked, pointedly not reacting to Stiles’ bizarre behavior.

“Well, aside from the fact Stilinski just about confirmed it, I could feel that something was wrong.”

Lydia frowned, knowing from Scott that wolves could read emotions, but her being upset shouldn’t have reached Derek out of the blue. Unless…no. She already decided she wasn’t going there. “How?”

“Technically, I could tell something was up with Scott. I went to check and make sure he was alright and well. He filled me in.” He held out his right hand, which clutched a haphazardly assembled bouquet of wildflowers that spilled over his hands in a thousand different directions. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

Lydia took the flowers, bringing them to her nose to inhale the strangely aromatic blossoms. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

“I guess you’re all taken care of, so I’ll just…” Derek mumbled, gesturing towards his car.

“You don’t have to. You can stay if you want.”

Derek’s face lit up hopefully. “Really?”

“Really.”

“So,” Derek began, rubbing his hands together as they let him into the house. “What’s on the agenda?”

“We were about to watch The Princess Diaries. You can still back out, big guy,” Stiles informed Derek as he clapped him on the shoulder. Derek glared at the offending hand, which Stiles quickly removed.

“Wait, really?” Derek asked, looking strangely excited. “I haven’t seen that in years!”

“You’ve watched this movie before? Big bad scary Derek Hale is into Princess movies?”

“Stiles,” Lydia warned. “Shut up.”

“Yes, macho man, I am,” Derek replied tersely, though there was a hint of softness under the biting words. “My sisters loved it. I mean, what’s not to love. You’ve got Julie Andrews and Anne Hathaway. Come on.”

“He has a point, Stiles,” Lydia inserted with a smirk as Stiles got flustered.

“I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with it,” he insisted. “It’s just not an easy mental picture to create.”

“Stiles, how about you get some more ice cream. Derek and I will get settled in,” Lydia informed him. Rolling his eyes, Stiles sulked off to the kitchen. “Sorry about him,” Lydia apologized. “I think he’s feeling a little over protective. I also think he’s a little ticked off at Scott but he doesn’t like being pissed at his best friend so you’re the next best thing.”

Derek screwed up his face as he shook his head in confusion. “That’s a compliment, I guess? I’m sure we’ll be fine, we’ve always managed not liking each other much before.” They climbed to the top of the stairs, Derek slightly behind her. When they reached the top, Derek gently grabbed her wrist to get her attention. “How are you holding up? I mean really, not just what you think we all want to hear.”

Lydia smiled wanly, her throat tightening up again. “I’ll be okay. Stiles has been helping, it was nice not to be alone.”

“And here I am interrupting. I’m sorry, I could go…”

“Please don’t,” Lydia insisted, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze. “You showing up here...it means a lot, okay? I don’t see why you both can’t help out.”

Derek snorted. “I don’t think Stiles would agree.”

“Forget about him, he’s not acting like himself,” Lydia dismissed. “Look, whatever is going on right now...I know for a fact that you both would willingly give your lives for each other, though please don’t ever try that out,” Lydia returned. “Come on, let’s go to my room.” Derek raised his eyebrows, smirking. Lydia glared at him, though the look lacked any real heat. “You know, the two of you aren’t as different as you might think.”

Ignoring Derek’s confused look, Lydia led him into the bedroom. “Where do you want to sit? We’ve just been on the bed, but I’m sure I could get you a chair if you’d be more comfortable?”

“The bed’s fine,” Derek insisted, though a second later his eyes widened. “That is, if it’s okay with you, I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable…”

“I offered, dumbass,” Lydia replied, rolling her eyes. “Come on, up boy.” She patted the bed next to her to emphasize the point.

Derek huffed. “I might be a wolf, but I’m no dog,” he mumbled as he situated himself on the mattress. Lydia looked at him blankly for a moment before snorting, the sound opening up the floodgates of laughter. Her body shook with the emotion, and she knew that her reaction was well out of proportion. But today had just been so awful and something about the way Derek kept looking with her with a clearly forced stoic face as he watched her crumble. But as she flopped onto the bed next to him, his steely exterior cracked, a small smile emerging on his face as he looked at her almost adoringly. It was a look that suited him, Lydia decided between fits of giggles.

“What’s so funny?” Stiles asked, walking in with six bowls, a carton of ice cream, and a bag of microwave popcorn.

“Nothing,” she and Derek replied in unison.

“Yeah, yeah,” Stiles muttered skeptically. “Come on, let’s dig in and see what’s so great about this princess and her diaries.”

* * *

“Oh my god, what a DICK!” Stiles shouted at the screen, popcorn spilling out of his mouth. “What did she ever see in those jerk-faces?” he demanded as Mia was humiliated by her dates on the beach. Lydia, squeezed in between Derek and Stiles, looked at the older man and shared a look over Stiles’ reaction. She sighed with a contentment she was startled to feel after all that had happened. But here, sandwiched between Stiles and Derek pigging out on junk food while watching the films of her childhood...nothing felt more natural. Derek must have sensed what was going on; slowly, so as not to draw attention to the motion, he slipped his rough, calloused hand inside her own, letting it rest softly in the dip between their adjoining thighs. In response, Lydia placed her head on his shoulder, watching Stiles more than the movie.

* * *

Lydia excused herself to order a pizza (veggie so they could at least feel like they were eating something remotely healthy, though she caved at Stiles’ request for one pepperoni). Stiles felt awkward suddenly, sharing the bed with Derek without Lydia in between them. They looked at each other nervously before hastily looking away. But Stiles had to do this now, he might not have another opportunity. “I heard you earlier. On the stairs. I was going to ask if you wanted me to make the popcorn, but you were having a moment and I didn’t want to interrupt. I just...thank you. For caring about her. I know this sounds dumb, it’s just...not everyone appreciates her.”

“You mean like Scott and Allison,” Derek replied, his voice infuriatingly neutral.

“Yes. No. I mean, Jackson and Isaac too. That was a train wreck.”

“I know,” Derek replied. “I was there.”

Stiles shook his head. “But you barely knew us back then. Scott had just been turned, so was Isaac and whatever got to Jackson too. It was a mess. I mean, Scott got a grip on his powers really quick, but the others...it changed them.” He sighed heavily, playing with his hands anxiously. “I grew up with her. True she never probably registered my existence until a year or two ago...but I always cared about her. Gah, saying it like that sounds so creepy. But I just...I hate people hurting her. She deserves better than that. I don’t care if nothing ever happens with me and her.” That was a boldface lie. “I just don’t want her getting hurt again. So hearing you like that...it was reassuring.”

“For the record,” Derek spoke after a short silence. “I would never. Not intentionally, at least.”

Stiles finally looked straight at Derek, their eyes meeting and his stomach doing this strange flippy thing that he chose to ignore. “I know.”

“I guess Lydia was right. We have more in common than I thought.”

Stiles grinned. “Yeah, I guess so. Sorry about being so defensive earlier…”

“Water under the bridge,” Derek assured him. “So, does this make us friends?”

“I thought we already were.”


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for sexual harassment and assault, though no rape is involved. These issues will pop up for the next four chapters or so, just a heads up.

A tall figure approached Lydia as she rifled through her locker attempting to find her history textbook, casting a shadow across her field of vision. “So, Martin, word around school is that you’re a free agent now, huh?” Lydia pursed her lips tightly together, preparing herself mentally for battle before looking up at Mark Bradshaw, captain of the football team.

“Still out of your league, Bradshaw,” she practically purred, her voice dripping with an affected sweetness meant to charm him away from her. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get to class.”

“I don’t think so,” Mark replied, placing a hand above her head on the locker next to her, effectively trapping her between him and the metal wall. “You seem to be developing quite a pattern. Chew ‘em up and spit them out. Might be hard to get anyone else to love you, given how much of a whore you are.”

Anger flared in Lydia’s chest, pushing aside any feelings of mortification that may have arisen from the accusation. She couldn’t believe this was happening again, she couldn’t believe how idiotic some people could be. This kind of thing was exactly why she had started dating Scott and Allison to begin with. “You’d better watch your tongue, Bradshaw, if you don’t want to lose it.”

“You’re lucky to have me, sweetheart,” he leered, making her skin crawl.

“Hey, you get away from her!” Scott shouted from down the hall, rushing in for the save.

“I don’t think it’s your call to make anymore, McCall,” Bradshaw taunted. “I heard you tossed this little slut out on her ass.”

“She’s still my friend,” Scott informed him coldly. “And if you ever so much as think of going near her again-”

“You’ll what? Beat me up? I’d like to see you try,” Mark scoffed. Scott stood there, arms crossed, until Mark slunk away.

“You didn’t have to do that, Scott,” Lydia informed him as he approached, finally locating her book and slipping it into her bag.

“I kinda did. It’s our fault you’re in this position…”

Lydia turned to face him head on. “While I appreciate the gesture, I can take care of myself,” she sniffed, holding her head up defiantly.

Scott smiled weakly. “I know you can. It just pisses me off that creeps like him think they can get away with pulling crap like that, you know?”

Lydia nodded. “I have to get to class.”

“Right,” Scott replied awkwardly. “Right.”

* * *

Kira had just bent over to pull her book out of her backpack when she noticed two sets of feet approach her table. She almost audibly gasped as she straightened herself upright and saw the boy she met yesterday, Scott, and one of his partners. She glanced at the table she noticed the three of them at the day before and saw the red headed girl sitting next to the guy whose seat she had taken. Her mind flashed to his cryptic words from the day before, her heart starting to race. “Hi,” she managed to squeak out, praying that she didn’t sound too ridiculous.

“Hi, it’s Scott, we met yesterday?”

“How could I forget?” Damn it, Kira, could you sound more like a crappy romance novel?

“This is my partner Allison,” he introduced, gesturing to the girl next to him.

Allison offered her hand, which Kira shook enthusiastically. Calm yourself. Good first impressions. Or second impressions. Just don’t embarrass yourself even more. “I saw you yesterday in class, but we haven’t officially met.”

“Mind if we sit here?” Scott asked, smiling at her kindly.

“Of course not,” she replied, hastily returning her book to her bag. “What can I do for you?”

“We just saw that you were sitting alone and thought you might like a friend.”

“Oh.” She glanced over at the redhead. “How does your other partner feel about that?”

Scott and Allison exchanged a glance. “Lydia isn’t with us anymore.” Scott informed her carefully.

“Oh,” Kira repeated dumbly. “Then I guess it wouldn’t be wildly inappropriate to tell you know that I feel some sort of pull towards you I can’t explain?” Oh shit. “Did I say that out loud?”

“It’s okay,” Allison insisted. “We felt it too.”

“Oh.” Somehow, even though she suspected as much, hearing the words were still a shock. “Well, then, what do we do?”

“I know you told me yesterday that you’d never been with anyone before, so I don’t want you to feel pressured into anything.”

“At all,” Allison agreed.

“But maybe we can hang out, see how things feel and see where it goes from there?”

Kira’s heart pounded loudly in her ears, excitement building. She wanted to say screw waiting and let’s just do this thing, but something held her back. Something about their offer felt right. “Sounds good to me.”

* * *

Lydia made it a point of not looking at the table where Scott and Allison had joined Kira. She would have to get used to it eventually, she knew that, but today was not that day. She tried to focus on whatever Stiles was rambling about but her mind couldn’t focus. She half suspected that he was just talking about whatever floated across his mind in an attempt to distract her. Stiles kept it up until they were dismissed from the cafeteria back to class, and he kept close to her side as they pushed their way upstream through their fellow students. Suddenly, Lydia felt a hand on her ass, squeezing hard before being yanked away by their forward thrust. She looked back, glaring at the sniggering asshole, a friend of Mark’s.

“What the hell was that?” Stiles seethed.

“Nothing,” Lydia mumbled, wishing he hadn’t noticed. Scott had been bad enough. If they just let her, she could deal with those creeps.

“He touched you. On your butt. That’s not okay.”

“No, it’s not,” Lydia agreed. “But I’ll handle it.”

“How? By sleeping with every guy who gropes you, just to get them to leave you alone?”

Lydia sighed heavily, hating where this was going. “Worked last time.”

“That’s a lie and you know it. It only stopped because of your relationship with Scott and Allison.”

“Yeah, well. Now I’m on my own.”

“No you’re not,” Stiles insisted, gripping her hand tightly. “You’ve got me.”

“Stiles…”

“Come on, we’re going to be late.”

* * *

Stiles was waiting for her outside her final class for the day. “I was thinking.”

“Always a dangerous thing,” she quipped.

“What if we started dating?”

Lydia stopped in her tracks in shock. “Have you lost your mind?”

Stiles shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets in what she assumed had to be a nervous gesture. “I mean, I know it’s not as good as a triad, but if you were in a relationship, those bozos would have to leave you alone.”

“No Stiles,” Lydia replied, starting to walk down the hall. She didn’t have to look to know that Stiles had followed, walking alongside her.

“Why not?” he demanded.

“Because,” Lydia started as she stood to face him at the end of the hall. “If anything were to ever happen between us...I’d want it to be on our terms. I don’t want it to be about convenience...I did that already, okay? I can’t do that again. Besides, you mean too much to me to reduce you to a consolation prize.”

Stiles smiled halfheartedly. “I get it, I do. But I just want to keep you safe. I don’t trust those assholes.”

“We’ll figure out something,” she replied. “Wanna come to my house after school to study?”

Stiles’ face stretched into a comical grin, much more excited than anyone should ever be about homework. “Count me in.”

* * *

Lydia knew that she had to formally meet Kira eventually. They shared several classes together and had exchanged awkward looks of recognition, but neither of them had taken that first step. Scott and Allison asked her about it the day before and she agreed that they could bring her to the lunch table, no matter how much her heart was telling her to denounce it as a horrible idea.

But what was done was done. She took her usual place next to Stiles and waited for them to arrive.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this? Because if you want to fake sick, I’ll totally cover for you,” he assured her.

“It’s alright, Stiles. Might as well get it over with now.”

“Just for the record, I’m still annoyed with him.”

Lydia shook her head. “Please, don’t be on my account. Scott’s practically your brother. You’ve been friends a lot longer than we have. I don’t want to get in the way of that, even indirectly.”

“But-”

“Promise me you’ll work things out with Scott?” Lydia pressed.

Stiles deflated. “Yeah, okay. I mean, I would have eventually anyways…” He looked past her head, growing strangely still for him. “Here comes the cavalry.”

Swallowing thickly, Lydia began to mentally prepare herself, smiling a little at Stiles as he patted her on the shoulder comfortingly. She felt a strong surge of affection for her friend, thankful that she was not going through this alone.

“Hey,” Scott greeted, smiling tentatively, Allison echoing the greeting as they took seats across from her and Stiles, with Kira in the middle. She looked nervous, glancing back and forth between Lydia, Stiles, and the table. “Lydia, this is Kira. Kira, Lydia.”

“It’s nice to finally actually meet you face to face,” Kira inserted, holding out her hand. The corner of Lydia’s mouth slowly ticked upwards as she returned the gesture, feeling slightly disarmed at how friendly she was being.

“Likewise.”

Kira took a deep breath, looking over at both Scott and Allison. “Look, I know this has to be awkward, and I’m really sorry that I caused all of that. But we care about some of the same people and I just...I want to try and be friends, if that’s something you think you can do.”

“I can try,” Lydia replied, startling even herself, Stiles as well if the short intake of breath was any indication. “I don’t blame you, it’s not your fault.” She looked up at Allison, who still couldn’t quite look at her properly. “If you make them happy, I can be okay with it. Eventually. But if you hurt them…”

“I won’t,” Kira assured her earnestly.

For now, Lydia decided, that had to be enough.

* * *

Stiles glared at what had to have been the fifth guy to make a pass at Lydia that day. A few days ago he started escorting her from class to class, worried about her safety. Though she first greeted his presence with an eyeroll, as the day wore on she seemed grateful. He figured that it was the least he could do if she wouldn’t consider a relationship. Though sometimes, after a particularly rough day, he wondered if he was starting to wear her down. He felt guilty, something he rarely ever experienced. He didn’t want to be the one causing her any more pain. But he didn’t know what else to do. To those assholes, the only way they could understand “back off” was if she was in a relationship. It was sick.

“Hey hot stuff,” yet another one leered, this time it was Jeff Jones. He heard Lydia sigh deeply next to him. Stiles wanted to reach out and grab her hand, but he had a feeling that would just make matters worse.

“You do realize that you’re just going to get shot down like the rest of them, right?” Lydia snapped.

“I wouldn’t be so sure. I can be quite persuasive,” the jock sneered.

“Okay, that’s enough, back off pal,” Stiles instructed, stepping in front of Lydia protectively, hands held up in front of him.

“Oh, looky here, it’s Lydia’s little lap dog? What are you gonna do? Bark at me?”

“I’ll do more than bark,” Stiles snarled, pulling his arm back to slug the bastard in the face but his movement was impeded by Lydia grabbing his flailing limb.

“Stiles, don’t. They aren’t worth getting in trouble over. Come on, let’s go.”

“Yeah, Stilinski, go ahead and punch me. It would be rich see your Daddy have to put you in that beat up squad car of his.”

“Keep walking,” Lydia muttered softly out of the corner of her mouth, steering him away from Jones, a steel grip on his arm.

“How are there so many creeps at this school?” Stiles huffed. “I hate this so much.”

“I know,” Lydia sighed, sounding somewhat resigned, and that scared him.

“We still could-”

“No.”

“But-”

“No Stiles.”

“Can’t you just consider it? Please? Would dating me really be worse that this harassment?”

Lydia turned to face him, her eyes flashing. “That’s not why I’m saying no and you know it. And I’d really appreciate it if you would back off. I understand that you’re concerned, I get it. It’s sweet. But I can’t...it wouldn’t do any good just being a couple and you know that. We’ve had this conversation already and I am tired and I am sick of fighting so hard just to get through the day and I do not have the energy to be fighting with you too.”

Stiles deflated, her words stinging even though he knew he deserved the criticism. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Lydia replied, but her voice indicated that it was anything but. “I just want to go home.”

“Do you need a ride?’

Lydia hesitated. “Yes, that would be nice. Thank you.”

Stiles’ mouth twisted into the best smile he could muster. “Anything you need.”

They walked in silence to his Jeep, the air between them strangely thick in a way it hadn’t been in a long time, not since before they really became friends. He was afraid that he was losing her friendship and the idea of that was terrifying. They pulled out of the parking lot when Lydia finally spoke.

“I wish I could say yes, you know,” she informed him softly. “Maybe if things were different…”

“You want a triad,” Stiles replied blankly, keeping his eyes determinedly on the road.

“You remember how bad Scott and Allison had it before I got together with them. They agreed as much for them as for me. If we were a couple they would just go after you too.”

Stiles sighed heavily. “Why are you always right?”

“Because I’m the smart one,” Lydia replied. Stiles glanced over, catching her smirk and her eyes that sparkled almost like they used to.

“I don’t know, I could give you a run for your money…”

“Doubt it.”

She was probably right.

*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*

Instead of going right home after dropping Lydia off at her house, Stiles kept driving. He wasn’t quite sure where he was going, but somehow he ended up pulling into the driveway in front of Derek’s loft. Why he had no idea, but somehow, it felt right. Before he could over think things, he let himself into the building, darting up the stairs and knocked on the loft door, which quickly slid opened to reveal a confused looking Derek. “Stiles? What are you doing here?”

“I...I don’t know,” Stiles replied honestly. “Can I come in?”

“Of course.” Derek stood back to let him in, sliding the door shut behind him. “What’s going on? You look like someone ran over your cat.”

“It’s Lydia,” Stiles sighed heavily.

“Somebody ran over Lydia?” Derek asked with a snarky faux innocence. Stiles sent him a withering look and Derek seemed to get that he wasn’t up for their usual sparing today. His friend frowned slightly as they sat next to each other on the couch. “Did something else happen with Scott and Allison?”

“If only,” Stiles grumbled. “There’s this group of assholes who have made it their mission to target her. She’s been dealing with it so amazingly but she shouldn’t have to. It just makes me so angry…no one should ever have to go through that,” he explained. Derek hummed in agreement. “I just want to help her but she’s so hell bent against a relationship-”

“Wait, let me get this straight. Your solution for dealing with this issue is to make yourself another pursuer?”

Stiles groaned, rubbing his head tiredly. “When you put it that way…” He sighed. “I just want to keep her safe.”

“I know you do,” Derek replied softly, leaning in somewhat closer. “I shouldn’t have said that, it wasn’t a fair comparison.”

Stiles huffed. “Wasn’t it, though? She said just as much herself. They aren’t the only ones apparently incapable of taking a hint. I’m a horrible friend.”

“You’re not,” Derek assured him. “It’s just that tact isn’t your strong suit.”

Snorting, Stiles shook his head. “I suppose not. I just don’t know what to do.”

Derek frowned at him thoughtfully. “Does Scott know?”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Yeah. She told him to back off too. Besides, he’s too distracted by his new girlfriend to notice…” he added bitterly, Lydia’s words echoing at the back of his mind. He would fix things with Scott...eventually. But first his best friend actually had to be available and almost all of his waking hours seemed to revolve around his new relationship. It hadn’t been this bad when Lydia had started dating him and Allison. Scott said it was because all three of them were soul mates. Stiles didn’t think he could believe in crap like that.

“New girlfriend?” Derek asked, looking confused.

“Oh, he didn’t tell you? That’s why they broke up with Lydia. Apparently they are _meant to be_. Her name is Kira.”

“Interesting,” Derek muttered. “Why don’t you like her? Is something wrong with her? Is she going to try and attack Scott?”

Stiles shrugged. “You’re the one with the heightened senses, dude, not me.”

Something that almost passed for a smile crossed Derek’s face. “I don’t know; you have pretty good instincts.”

“Not so sure about that,” Stiles replied. “I accused you of murdering your sister, remember?”

“Vividly,” Derek replied, leaning back and resting his elbow on the back of the couch and cradling his head in the palm of his hand.

“Nah,” Stiles sighed. “I don’t think she’s dangerous. Not to Scott and Allison at least. It’s just...an adjustment.”

“Change isn’t always a bad thing, Stiles.”

“I know. But it is when it leaves one of your best friends in danger and the other happier than they’ve ever been in their life. It’s confusing.”

“I bet,” Derek replied, reaching out to take his hand. A surge of something, some kind of energy shot through their connection. His first instinct was to pull away, and he saw Derek flinch a little, but something about the comforting warmth of that connection that made him hold on tight.

“Derek…”Stiles murmured in confusion.

A strange mix of conflicting emotions danced across Derek’s face as he glanced at Stiles timidly. “I…” Derek’s eyes seemed to focus on his lips, which Stiles wet nervously. Slowly, like he was witnessing an out of body experience, they moved closer together as if drawn by a magnetic field. Before his mind could catch up to his body and register what the hell was going on, Derek’s lips were pressed firmly against his, a hand cupping his face tenderly.

It was sure one hell of a first kiss.

* * *

Derek didn’t know why he was doing it, it felt like someone else was calling the shots, but not in a way that made him feel used. But he was kissing Stiles, annoying, skinny Stiles and nothing else mattered. His mind felt blissfully blank as Stiles eagerly responded, giving him permission to deepen the kiss. His mouth moved of its own accord, somehow knowing what would make Stiles keep giving off those guttural little moans that echoed in his throat. Stiles gasped when Derek slid his tongue inside his mouth, and he couldn’t help but smile against Stiles’ face at the reaction. This was something he never knew he wanted but now that it was happening he never wanted it to stop.

Hands began wandering, feeling every muscle though the teasingly thin fabric of shirts. Suddenly, the space between them on the couch was too big, too much...Derek grabbed Stiles and hauled him so that the younger boy straddled his lap. Stiles hummed happily at the shift, his hips thrusting forward. It was impossible to ignore the hard length pressing against his thigh.

That was what snapped him out of his lust induced haze. “Stiles,” he muttered, pulling back. “We need to stop.”

Stiles shook his head, sitting back a little bit. “Dude, it’s fine, I’m eighteen.”

Derek shook his head, trying not to start freaking out until Stiles left. “That’s not what I meant. You need to leave.”

The crestfallen look on Stiles’ face nearly tore his heart in two. But he knew better than to let feelings (strange, confusing feelings that had struck like a bolt out of the blue) cloud his judgment. He’d been down this road before and just couldn’t do it again. Not even for Stiles. “But-”

Derek maneuvered Stiles back onto the couch, standing up and walking a few feet away, resolutely not looking in his direction. “Stiles, just go,” Derek pleaded, the remnants of arousal still urging his brain to reconsider. Thankfully he was stronger than that.

“Not until you tell me what the hell this was all about.”

Derek finally turned back around to face him. “Please, Stiles,” he begged, his voice sounding tiny even to his own ears. Stiles must have noticed it too, his face shifting slightly from demanding an explanation to being resigned.

“Fine. I see how it is. I’ll go. But don’t you ever think anything like this is ever going to happen again,” Stiles spat, clearly hurt and Derek hated that he caused that pain. Stiles stomped out of the loft, slamming the door shut behind him. Derek collapsed back onto the couch, hating himself, hating what he had just done.

Self preservation was a bitch sometimes.

 


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for slight, indirect emotional abuse.

A knock on the door startled Melissa as she was coming downstairs after changing out of her work clothes. She glanced at the clock, realizing it was probably Sher or Chris. Her husbands. It was still an adjustment, even though she’d seen them about every day since the wedding. But it was earlier than they usually came over. She hoped nothing was wrong.

“Hey, Melissa,” Stilinski greeted with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Can I come in?”

“We really should get you keys to the place,” she quipped, trying to keep the atmosphere light as he entered the house.

“That’s actually why I’m here,” the Sheriff replied. “You’ll never guess who stopped by the precinct just a little while ago.”

Melissa rolled her eyes. “My lovely ex-husband?”

“Bingo,” the Sheriff replied. “Our friend wanted to know why we hadn’t moved in together yet. Said it looks all kind of suspicious.”

“How would he know that?” Melissa asked, panic rising up in her chest. “He _has_ been stalking us, hasn’t he?”

The Sheriff snorted. “Probably. I gave him some excuse that we’ve all had busy schedules and hadn’t sorted out the particulars, but I don’t think he was too keen on it. We really need to sit down and figure out what we plan on doin’, all three of us.”

“Yeah,” Melissa replied, grateful as he wrapped his arms around her comfortingly. She knew that these bits of affection weren’t required on his part; they probably didn’t mean anything more than a friendly hug. But it was nice all the same. “Do you have any thoughts?”

“Well, I think my place is out. We had to downsize after Stiles’ mothers passed, couldn’t afford the old place and I had no intention of moving on anytime soon. I don’t know about Chris, though.”

“We could probably manage to make it work here if that’s what we decide,” Melissa responded. “Though Stiles and Scott would have to share a room.”

“I don’t think they’d be too opposed to that,” the Sheriff replied.

“Not too opposed to what?” Chris asked as he opened the door and walked into the house like he had done so for years.

“Ever hear of knocking?” the Sheriff replied, sounding more confused than annoyed.

Chris shrugged, smiling nonchalantly. “It was open, Melissa knew I was coming...why not?” He glanced over at Melissa. “Unless it’s a problem?”

She shook her head firmly. “No, never. You’re both welcome here whenever. Or wherever we live.”

“Did that son of a bitch come to see you too?” he asked, suddenly growing serious.

Melissa frowned. “Rafe tracked you down?”

Chris rolled his eyes. “Made up some bullshit excuse about checking out my permits. I know he was just snooping.”

“Same,” the Sheriff replied. “Any thoughts?”

Chris nodded. “I’d prefer if we didn’t stay at my house. It’s still so soon after Vicki...it would seem too weird. I’ll hold onto it, keep it as the base of operations for work stuff, but I just don’t think we should try and start this family there. Too many ghosts.”

“Then I guess here is the best option, then,” Melissa concluded.

“We should talk to the kids tonight,” the Sheriff added.

Chris shook his head in disbelief. “This is really happening, isn’t it?”

“I guess it is,” Melissa replied. “I think we forgot one critical detail, though.”

“What’s that?” The Sheriff asked with only the slightest hint of a frown.

“Us. Where are we going to sleep?”

“Is there not enough room in your room?” Chris asked. Melissa raised her eyebrows at him and he held up his hands defensively. “Sorry, presumptuous.”

“It’s okay,” she assured him, because honestly, he was extremely easy on the eyes. Sharing a room with either of them would certainly be no hardship. “I still have the triad bed. But I just...wouldn’t it be weird? It’s not like you guys married me for the sex…” The Sheriff coughed uncomfortably, starting to turn a bright red. “I just don’t want things to get awkard between us, you two are already sacrificing so much…”

“I’m sure we could sleep in the living room or something,” the Sheriff assured her.

“Hell no,” Melissa replied. “Not only would that look more suspicious than you not living here, I am not letting you sleep on that couch. I wouldn’t wish a night on that thing on my worst enemy. You’re welcome to stay in my room if you’re comfortable with it. Otherwise we’ll figure something else out, okay?”

“Okay,” Chris replied.

“Okay,” the Sheriff added.

“Great,” Melissa sighed, clapping her hands together. “We’ll get the kids on board and we can do the heavy lifting this weekend.”

* * *

Allison felt guilty. She shouldn’t be feeling this happy, not after she knew she broke Lydia’s heart. That was on her...though they had been in a triad with Scott, she and Lydia always had the stronger bond, were always a little bit more in love than Lydia had been with Scott. But now it almost felt like a distant memory. A treasured one to be sure, but distant.

But it was different with Kira. Everything came so easily, felt so natural. It was as if Allison knew without a shadow of a doubt that in this moment, they were meant to be together. Technically they weren’t a triad; Kira was a little gun shy and wanted to take things slow. But they had spent every second they could outside of school with her and the three of them were already falling into sync.

They separated right before Scott and Allison returned to the McCall’s for dinner; they invited Kira, but she politely declined. Though she didn’t say, Allison suspected it had to do with Stiles. He hadn’t been outright hostile towards Kira, but to say he wasn’t thrilled at the union was an understatement.

When she and Scott arrived home, hands intertwined, they were greeted by the warm smell of dinner wafting towards them. They followed their noses to the dining room, where their parents and the Sheriff were gathered, speaking quietly among themselves.

“Sorry we’re late,” Scott began as he hugged his mother in greeting and pulled out a seat. “We were studying and lost track of time.”

Her father raised his eyebrows at her as she greeted him. “Studying. So that’s what they’re calling it these days.”

“Dad…” Allison groaned, shoving him playfully on the shoulder, scowling at the smirk that danced across his face.

“Where’s Stiles?” Scott asked, eying the empty seat. The front door slammed shut, the sound echoing through the room. “Aaaand that’s probably him now.”

Stiles stalked into the room, his hair disheveled and his eyes tinged red around the edges as if he’d been crying. He slumped into the seat next to her. Allison reached over to pat him on the shoulder, take his hand, something, but Stiles recoiled. “Just leave me alone, please?” he muttered.

“What’s wrong?” his father demanded. “What the hell happened to you?”

“I just had a bad day, that’s all,” Stiles replied tersely. “Can you please pass me the meatloaf, I’m starving.” Allison glanced at Scott, who looked extremely concerned at his friend’s distress.

They started passing the food around, tray after tray bearing more food than Allison was used to seeing in one meal aside from Thanksgiving. Conversation lulled to a halt as they served themselves and began to eat, focusing more on the sustenance than the company. After everyone had at least somewhat satisfied their hunger, Scott’s mom placed down her fork, leaning forward something. “We have something we need to talk to you three about.” Allison saw her father and the Sheriff take either one of Scott’s mother’s hands, holding them reassuringly. “I’m sure you knew that this was going to happen eventually, but it’s looking like it’s time that we moved in together. We all discussed it and the best option is for you all to move in here. It should work if we do some rearranging. Scott, we figured that you and Stiles could share a room-”

“Hello no,” Stiles practically shouted.

“Excuse me?” his father asked, taken aback. He’d noticed how odd Stiles was acting too.

“I can’t do this,” Stiles proclaimed, crumpling up his napkin and chucking it onto the table where it bounced halfheartedly. Without another word, he stood up from his chair so quickly that it almost tipped over and stormed from the room.

Scott stood just as quickly but with a little more poise. “I’ll go talk to him,” he muttered, dashing off after his best friend.

“What the hell is going on?” the Sheriff asked in confusion.

“He and Scott have never gotten like this before,” Scott’s mother said. “They’ve always been so close…”

“I think he’s mad at us. Well, mostly Scott I think. About Kira.”

“Why?” the Sheriff asked, his face clouded with confusion. “It’s not like he’s the one who just got dumped.” Allison saw her father shoot him a look. “Sorry.”

“He thinks Lydia got the short end of the stick in the deal. Which she kind of did,” Allison admitted.

The Sheriff frowned. “Look, it might not be my business at all, but how do you know for sure that this Kira girl was worth it?”

Allison shrugged. “I can’t really explain it, but I’m sure you know. It’s the feeling when you met the people you are meant to be with. It was just like when I met Scott.”

The Sheriff frowned. “Look, I mean, meeting your partner’s is really amazing, but it’s not like some instantaneous revelation or anything. It’s not like some sort of magic.”

“Not necessarily,” her father chimed in. “It’s been known to be different when...people like Scott are involved. Because of the supernatural element, the normal feelings are intensified; it can act as an aphrodisiac.” Allison looked down at her plate, feeling her face flush. “Sorry, honey.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” the Sheriff interrupted. “So is Kira a werewolf too?”

The thought had never even occurred to her. “I...I don’t know. I don’t think so, I’d think that Scott would have been able to tell if she were, he would have said something to me…”

“It could very well just be your mutual connection to Scott. It could have heightened the feelings between you and her.”

“Does that mean…” Allison began in hesitation. “Does that mean it’s not real? That it’s just some sort of magic playing tricks on us?” Her heart began to race. What if everything she shared with Scott was a lie? What if they actually weren’t meant to be together but their bodies were overriding their more rational faculties.

“Not at all,” her father reassured her. “It doesn’t spontaneously create feelings that don’t exist. It only amplifies them.”

“How do you know so much about all this stuff anyways?” the Sheriff asked, glancing at the doorway to the room as if Stiles would suddenly appear.

“That’s a long story,” Allison’s father replied, giving her time to be alone with her thoughts.

* * *

Scott followed Stiles’ scent up the stairs and down the hall into his room. Stiles was sitting on Scott’s bed with his legs spread wide, head bowed and resting in his hands and breathing heavily. Scott stood in the doorway, not sure if she should proceed. It was a strange thing, not feeling like you could enter your own bedroom. But he had never seen Stiles like this before...it was uncharted territory.

“I know you’re there, Scott,” Stiles muttered in resignation. “You can come in, you know.” he looked up as Scott entered, though not making eye-contact with his friend. Rather, his eyes darted around the room as if taking it in for the first time. “I figured if we were going to be roomies I should get used to the place.”

Scott nodded as he gingerly sat down next to Stiles on the bed. It was so confusing, sitting close enough that their shoulders just almost brushed each other yet it felt like Stiles was miles away. And it was his fault. “I’m sorry,” he began, not knowing what else he could say. He had to fix this.

“I’m the one who should be sorry,” Stiles replied. “I’ve been a horrible friend.”

“Yeah, well,” Scott mumbled. “I haven’t really been great either.”

“I don’t know what’s going on, Scott. I know I shouldn’t be this upset with you, rationally I do. Even Lydia doesn’t want this. But I just have this...visceral swirling of emotion that really makes me want to punch you in the face and I can’t make it stop.”

“You can, you know.” Scott informed him, chancing a smile. “Punch me in the face. It’ll hurt for a little bit but I’ll be okay. If it might make you feel better…”

Stiles smiled wanly. “Don’t tempt me.” He shook his head. “This isn’t me.”

Scott frowned. “Do you think something’s controlling you?”

“No,” Stiles replied. “Maybe? I don’t know. If something was, I wouldn’t necessarily be aware of it, right?” He finally looked up at Scott. “But until we do I don’t think sharing a room is such a good idea. I’m sorry.”

Scott carefully placed his hand on Stiles’ back, rubbing soothingly. “I understand. I’m sure Allison wouldn’t mind me sneaking over to her room to give you some space to process, we’ll make it work. No hard feelings, okay?”

“Okay,” Stiles choked out. “I hate this.”

“I know,” Scott assured him. “But this doesn’t change anything. You’ve always been like a brother to me and now you are more than ever. That’s not going anywhere, I promise.”

“I love you, buddy,” Stiles sighed, reaching over and practically tackling him into a hug. Scott savored the embrace, thankful that he was at least able to get a glimpse at the real Stiles.

“I love you too.” Scott thought back on Stiles’ entrance at dinner; something else was going on. “What set you off earlier?” he asked, curious at what could have riles Stiles up like that.

“It was nothing,” Stiles replied, his heart racing.

“You know I can tell when you lie, right?”

“Shit. Werewolf. Right.”

Scott snorted. “Kinda hard to forget that one.”

“I guess,” Stiles concurred. “It’s complicated, okay? I think I need to sort through some things on my own before I try and talk about it, okay?”

Scott nodded reluctantly. “Fine, but if you need anything…”

“I know who to call.”

* * *

Allison reached out to Scott as he rejoined them at the table. He took her hand, smiling gratefully, and she squeezed it tightly in return. His face was drawn, clearly worried about something, and she suspected that it had to do with more than Stiles’ erratic behavior.

“Everything alright?” Scott’s mother asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Scott assured her, putting on his best smile. “We still have a ways to go but we’ll be okay.”

“Good,” his mother replied. They had mostly finished dinner while Scott had been upstairs, so the adults started to clear the table. Allison offered to help but they declined; she suspected they wanted her to stay with Scott. She could do that.

Her partner started down at his plate, pushing his food around. “You know, it really doesn’t taste any better when it’s all mushed up like that,” she informed him teasingly, hoping to distract him. Scott chuckled tiredly, finally bringing a forkful of food to his mouth. “That’s more like it.”

“Sorry,” Scott mumbled as he scraped his fork around his plate. “I’m just a little distracted, that’s all.”

Allison hesitated. “Are things really okay?”

“I don’t know,” Scott sighed, sounding much more tired than was reasonable. “Something’s going on, something I don’t think I can help him with. Or at least he won’t let me help. I really don’t know.”

“It’s okay,” Allison assured him, rubbing his back soothingly. “It’ll be alright. You two will get through this.”

Nodding absently, Scott finished the last few bites of his meal. They stood, bringing their dirty dishes to the sink and washing them in silence. Once everything was put away, they made their way to the living room, which was thankfully empty. “I think our parents are upstairs figuring out how to rearrange your mom’s room,” Allison informed him.

“That’s gotta be weird for them,” Scott replied. “It’s gonna be weird for us, to be honest.”

“Good weird, right?” Allison asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“The best weird,” Scott replied, grinning the brightest he had since they came home as he moved in to press against her lips tenderly. He pulled back, resting their foreheads together, eyes locked on one another. “I love you,” Scott whispered, and the words sent chills up Allison’s spine just like they always did. She wondered how much of that was because of the heightened senses...that whole thing was still kind of freaking her out.

“I love you too,” she sighed, tugging on his hand to lead him to the sofa. She sat down and situated herself so that her back pressed against the armrest, practically pulling Scott into her lap. He stretched out on the rest of the length of the couch, his head resting gently on her chest and their hands intertwined on his stomach. “You’re still upset,” she muttered, leaning down to press a light kiss to his forehead.

Scott tilted his head up, smiling slightly though its energy had waned. “Can’t get anything past you, huh?”

“Nope,” Allison replied, leaning down awkwardly to kiss him as close to the lips as possible; she only reached about as far as his nose. “So, since you can’t get out of this, why don’t you spill? This is more than about Stiles, isn’t it?”

Scott nodded, his head bumping against her chest with the motion. “I can’t stop thinking of what we did to Lydia.”

A cold pit of ice formed in Allison’s stomach at the name. She too couldn’t help but feel guilty, even if she knew they had made the right call. They had barely spoken to Lydia since the breakup; the small talk they engaged in at lunch didn’t count. It was hard losing her best friend. “I know.”

“I just keep thinking, who am I to make this decision? I’m just as bad as my father, throwing a partner to the wolves...metaphorically speaking.”

“Hey, hey, stop that,” Allison chided, sifting a little so that they were almost facing each other. “You are not your father; this is an entirely different situation.”

“Is it, though? Is it really? All Rafe and Carrie did was want to have a relationship without my mother in it. They left and I’ve been furious since then. Now I’m just a hypocrite.”

“No, you’re not,” Allison assured him. “Look, why were you angry with them? Because they left or because after they left they weren’t there for you?”

Scott looked down, playing with the hem of his shirt. “The second one,” he admitted.

“I know things are still awkward, but we are never going to abandon Lydia like that. Once the dust settles, we’ll still be there for her. Relationships don’t last forever, Scott, especially in high school. It’s how we deal with the break ups that matters.”

Scott smiled at her softly, some of the tension ebbing from his face. “I love you,” he repeated, leaning in for another kiss. “But how do we know we’re making the right call?”

It was time to tell him. “My dad shared something interesting when you were upstairs. Apparently when werewolves are involved, the bonds of attraction...they’re stronger. Like when we met and we just...felt a connection. I don’t know if it’s always that strong, but it’s not how most people experience it apparently.”

“Really?” Scott asked, frowning. “I guess it makes sense. But why with you and Kira?”

Allison shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe because we were connected through you? I don’t think it really matters. It’s real, Scott.” Another thought crossed her mind. “We have to tell her.”

“I know.”

“How do you think she’ll take it?”

Scott shrugged. “Well, you freaked when you found out, and hey, look at us now. I’m choosing to be optimistic.”

Allison couldn’t help but smile as she moved in for another kiss. What could go wrong?

* * *

Stiles laid back on Scott’s bed, too ashamed at his outburst to go back downstairs. But he had barely eaten anything during his brief foray at dinner and his stomach was not thrilled with him at all. He was just about to say screw his pride and run to the kitchen when his father appeared in the doorway holding a plated sandwich. “I thought you might be hungry,” he explained, holding up the plate in his direction.

“Oh my _god_ , Dad. You’re the best,” Stiles replied, leaping up and taking the food and scarfing it down.

“Yeah, well, you’ve done a pretty good job of taking care of me over the years, ‘bout time I returned the favor.” His father walked over and sat down about where Scott has been an hour earlier. “Stiles, what the hell’s gotten into you? Are you okay?”

Stiles hesitated, torn between telling his dad the truth and wanting to protect him from something he didn’t understand himself. “I’ll be okay. I guess this whole thing with Scott and Allison and Lydia just touched a nerve and I’ve...uh, been having some issues myself in the love arena, so I guess I just blew it out of proportion.”

“You want to talk about it?”

Stiles shook his head. “Like I said, I’ll be fine.”

“Look, kid. I know you’ve been into Lydia for a long time. But this might not be the best time to try for that. And if she doesn’t want you...you gotta back off.”

“I know,” Stiles replied, feeling another resurgence of guilt. He wondered what his father would say if he knew what was going on at school. There might be legal recourse they could attempt, but it didn’t feel right exposing it without Lydia’s consent. He made a mental note to ask Lydia about it the next day. “I’ve got it under control; I’ll let you know if I need anything, okay?”

His father sighed deeply, still clearly not convinced. “Fine. Alright, it’s time for us to head home now.”

“Okay,” Stiles replied. “What are we going to do with the house?” he asked as the stood to leave.

“Probably sell, eventually. But it’ll take some time.”

“You think this is gonna last? You marrying Melissa?”

His father shrugged, looking sheepish. “I know it’s just an arrangement, but I don’t know, we all get along pretty well. Besides, it’s gonna be for some good amount of time, otherwise Rafe will swoop in again. Don’t worry about it, I’ve got it under control.”

Stiles snorted, knowing how little he had really meant those same words. “Whatever you say, dad.”


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for evidence of harassment/abuse, character death (ish)

Lydia arched an eyebrow at Stiles as he plopped himself down next to her at lunch, huffing slightly. “What’s got your panties in a twist?”

“Nothing,” he grumbled, shoving his face full of food.

“That’s not going to work on me, you know,” she chided him. “Come on, what’s up?”

“What is so wrong with me that no one wants anything to do with me romantically?” he demanded.

Lydia sighed, starting to grow weary of this particular conversation. “Stiles, we talked about this.”

“I know. This isn’t about you.”

A part of her was thankful, but another part deep down was nagging with jealousy. That was absurd. “Oh? What happened? Or should I say who?”

Stiles sighed deeply, rubbing his hands across his face anxiously. “Promise me you won’t laugh?”

“Promise.”

“I went over to Derek’s yesterday and, um...we kissed.”

Lydia’s eyes flew wide open. Now that was not what she was expecting at all. “Oh?”

“Yeah, but then he freaked and told me to get the hell out of there.”

“Ouch.”

Stiles sniffed loudly, trying to look unaffected and failing miserably. “It was my first kiss too.”

Lydia leaned over to wrap him up in a hug, which he half-heartedly returned by pressing his palms against her encompassing arms. The gesture felt nice, right somehow that she couldn’t explain, that she refused to acknowledge. “I’m sorry, Stiles. That’s rough.”

“I’ve been wracking through my brain and I can’t figure out what I did wrong other than go over there in the first place,” he sighed in resignation. “I can’t do anything right.”

Lydia snorted. “That’s bullshit and you know it. Look, Derek’s been through a lot. Maybe it has nothing to do with you.”

Stiles shrugged. “I know. I’ve just been kinda all out of whack since, well. You know. Everything’s hitting me hard for some reason.”

“I’m sure it’ll work out,” Lydia assured him, the vaguest hints of a plan forming in her head. “And even if we’re not together...you always have me.”

* * *

Kira glanced around nervously, her heart racing as she followed Allison and Scott up the steps of their house. Or at least it would be, Allison was apparently moving in with her father that weekend; that whole situation was a bit strange and a lot confusing, but she didn’t question it. Too much. Regardless of the circumstances, it was still intimidating coming to their home for the first time, even if they had assured her that they would be the only ones there.

Something was going on. Scott seemed jumpy and nervous and Allison was looking in his direction every few minutes with a concerned expression. She wanted to ask what it was, wishing that she was as emotionally in tune as they were with each other. But that would take time and they weren’t even dating yet.

“Do you want anything to drink?” Scott offered as they walked inside. “Water? Soda?”

“I’m fine,” Kira replied, wanting to get down to whatever they brought her here for. “Scott, what’s going on?”

Scott led her over to the sofa with Allison following close behind. “Look, Kira, we really, really like you,” Scott began. “But before we go any further...there’s something you should know. About me.”

“Okay,” Kira responded, waiting for him to continue.

“I just,” Scott stumbled, clearly struggling to find words. “I don’t want to scare you. I don’t want you to be afraid of me.”

Kira raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you some sort of a serial killer or something?”

Scott barked out a laugh, some of the tension and anxiety working themselves out of his body. “No, that I certainly am not.”

“Scott wouldn’t hurt a fly,” Allison assured her. “Well, unless that fly was trying to kill people.”

Kira looked back at Scott, starting to get confused. “So what, you some kind of vigilante or something?”

“Something like that. Kira...I’m a werewolf.”

The silence hung heavily between them for a moment, Scott looking at her earnestly. “A werewolf,” she repeated. Scott nodded, eyes wide and searching. A mix of emotions ran through Kira in those few moments, swirling around her head, filling her head with thousands of questions to be asked, but the overwhelming feeling was a sense of relief. In spite of herself, Kira laughed, and with every cackle she let go the feelings of worry she hadn’t even consciously realized had been building up.

“Kira?” Allison asked. “You okay?”

“It’s fine if you’re freaking out, I get it, but I promise, I won’t hurt you,” Scott assured her earnestly.

“I know, I know,” Kira gasped. “I’m sorry, this is probably not how you saw this going at all.”

“Well, you’re not running for the door screaming, so I call that better than I expected,” Scott informed her. “What’s so funny?”

Figuring it would be easier to show than tell, Kira dug her phone out of her pocket, quickly entering the password and setting it up for the camera before handing it to Allison. “Take a picture of me.”

Though she looked about as confused as Scott, Allison complied. The camera clicked softly and Allison frowned. “Let me take another.”

“The same thing is going to happen,” Kira explained. Allison took another before handing the phone back to her so she could show Scott. The familiar hazy glow surrounded her like a glowing bubble of protection. She used to resent it, resent that it meant she wasn’t normal, but somewhere along the line, she realized that normal was quite overrated.

“What are you?” Scott whispered in disbelief as he examined the photos carefully. He looked up at her, blushing in embarrassment when he realized what he said. “That didn’t come out right.”

“It’s okay,” Kira reassured both of them. “It’s not like it’s a question that’s wrong. I’m a Kitsune, it’s a kind of mystical fox that has a thing for electricity.” She smiled awkwardly, waiting for a reaction. “Sorry to steal your thunder.”

“It’s okay,” Scott assured her, his gaze filled with awe. “It’s...wow. I was not expecting that. Um, how did you...”

“Become what I am? It runs in my family.” Kira explained. “I only found out about it a year ago. They history’s kind of complicated but basically the evil version, the Nogitsune, took over some kid where I used to live. It was kind of a trial by fire thing. That’s kind of why we moved to Beacon Hills; we knew about the increased supernatural activity and figured we might be needed.”

Scott frowned. “Did you know…”

“About you? Not specifically. But Beacon Hills has a reputation for being a werewolf hotspot. I probably would have figured it out eventually.” She turned to Allison, recognition dawning on her. “How did I not see this before? Argent? As in the hunters?”

“Former hunters,” Allison corrected. “My dad and I realized that our skills would be better used helping people than killing.”

“Yeah, falling in love with me kind of complicated things,” Scott added sheepishly.

“For the better,” Allison assured him.

“I’m glad this is all out in the open,” Kira told them both. “I was kind of worried about keeping this from you.”

“Don’t worry. We won’t tell anyone,” Scott assured her.

“Stiles will figure it out eventually, though,” Allison reminded him.

“Very true.”

“If there is anyone you trust, anyone who knows about this kind of thing, I don’t mind them knowing,” Kira explained. She hesitated, curious beyond belief but hesitant to ask, not sure if it would come across as an insult. “Can I see?” she asked timidly.

“You want to see me wolf out?” Scott asked, disbelieving.” Kira nodded. “Well, alright then.” Scott leaned back, taking a deep breath before shifting. It was nothing like Kira had ever seen, the way his skin rippled as it enlarged, the way hair sprouted out of nowhere, the way sharp claws that looked like really bad fake nails suddenly jutted out of his fingertips. It was hauntingly beautiful.

“Wow,” Kira sighed breathlessly. “That’s amazing.” Instinctively, she reached out a hand towards his face but pulling back when she realized how rude that was.

“It’s okay,” Scott assured her. “You can touch.”

Slowly, carefully, Kira traced his face, fascinated by every inch and transfixed by Scott’s incredulous gaze. She smiled as she studied, really not wanting Scott to feel too self-conscious. “Can I kiss you?” she asked, her voice breathy and just so completely infatuated in that moment.

Scott nodded. Kira glanced back to her other side, seeking the go ahead from Allison, who wore a strange look on her face. “Go for it,” she encouraged. Nodding, Kira leaned forward and pressed her lips softly against Scott’s, hand cupping his face. Slowly, she felt the skin shift under her palm as he returned to his human form. “Wow, that was hot,” Allison whispered huskily behind them, causing Kira to blush furiously.

“You changed back?”

Scott shrugged, smiling dopily at both her and Allison. “Love’s what keeps you human.”

Kira’s heart skipped a beat. “I think we need to talk about that.” She took a deep breath. “I think I’m ready. If you still want to…”

Allison chuckled, her voice sweet in Kira’s ears. “Of course we do,” she assured her, kissing her cheek tenderly. Kira felt her stomach dance at the gesture, feeling a ghosting impression of heat on her face.

“Yeah,” Scott agreed, wrapping his arms around both of them for a warm embrace. “Sounds wonderful.”

* * *

Lydia chewed her lip anxiously as she pulled up in front of Derek’s building. She knew she had to talk to him about Stiles; someone had to, or the next time some big bad showed up things would get really awkward, really fast. Before she could talk herself out of it, she let herself into the building, taking the stairs two at a time. Inhaling deeply, she rapped sharply on the door, stepping back to wait for a response, her foot tapping slightly out of habit. Within seconds, the loft door slid open, revealing a Derek whose face was melting with concern, more open than even she was used to seeing. “Lydia, what are you doing here?” His soft tone was confusing, jarring in an almost pleasant way. There was a time when those same words would have come out of his mouth dripping with defensive venom. “Is everything alright?”

“We need to talk,” Lydia replied, striding past him into the apartment. She took it as a good sign that he didn’t try to block her from entering.

“Is it what’s happening at school? Stiles…” his voice hitched softly, almost imperceptibly, but Lydia was always observant. “He said some people weren’t leaving you alone.”

Lydia forced a tight smile onto her face as she willed her heartbeat in stay as normal as possible. “I’m fine, Derek.”

He raised his eyebrows skeptically as he smirked at her. “Really,” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest in such a familiar motion. His eyes scanned her body, and for a moment Lydia felt self-conscious under his scrutiny. Derek’s eyes finally rested on her right forearm, which she quickly tucked under her left. “Are those bruises?” he asked, reaching out towards her, unfolding her arms so he could get a better look.

“It’s nothing,” Lydia mumbled, pulling back more for the sake of maintaining the ruse that she was holding it together and that she had things under control.

“It doesn’t look like nothing,” Derek replied, pushing up her sleeve and tracing the faint imprints of hands that marred her pristine skin. Lydia winced at the touch, still sore from the tight grip Bradford Stanley had on her as he had pinned her arm behind her back, shoving her up against a wall around a corner where people rarely wandered. She had actually been afraid in that moment; he was a lot bigger than her. Thankfully, Allison had given her some basic self-defense training, which she was able to use enough of in order to get away from that particular attacker. “And the emotions I’m reading off of you, those aren’t nothing either.”

Lydia arched an eyebrow at him. “Do you mind?” she asked, her voice tinged with a trace of irritation, wiggling her arm a little in a lame attempt to get him to let go.

“Let me try something,” he instructed quietly, looking deep into Lydia’s eyes. His grip tightened a little, but not uncomfortably so. Lydia glanced down to see his veins bulging out of his arms, black tendrils crawling up his arms. It took seeing that image to fully register what he was up to; he was taking her pain away.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Lydia mumbled as he finally let go. Her arm did feel a lot better, and overall she felt calmer, less shaky than she had since this whole mess had unraveled. “But thanks.”

“Least I could do,” Derek informed her, leading her over to sit on the sofa. “Though if you want, I could go all Grrr on them,” he added, baring his teeth and crumpling up his face into a growl, though he didn’t actually shift.

Lydia smiled in spite of herself, unable to resist chuckling at his ridiculous face. “I don’t think that will do much good. But I appreciate the offer. Still, that’s not what I came here to talk to you about.”

“Oh?” Derek asked distractedly, suddenly becoming strangely fascinated by the slight hole that was starting to appear on his jeans at the tip of his knee.

“Look, Stiles has been sulking ever since he came to see you. And you know I have a lot going on right now, you know I can’t deal with sulky Stiles,” she teased. “But in all seriousness...he’s really broken up about everything. He thinks he’s the problem.”

“What? No…” Derek replied hastily, his eyes flashing with a confusing blend of sadness and guilt. “He’s perfect.”

“Then why did you tell him to take a hike?”

Derek sighed heavily, the sound ripping raggedly through his chest. “I can’t give him what he wants.”

“And that is?” Lydia asked. She had her suspicions, but she had to know for sure.

“He desperately wants to be in a relationship, so badly he doesn’t care if it’s not a real one. He’s willing to settle with being a couple, and I can’t do that.” He bit his lip, looking at her hesitatingly before coming to some sort of conclusion with a mental struggle he had been having. “I’ve only ever been in couples and they’ve ended horribly. First Kate and then Jennifer…”

“Wait, wait,” Lydia interrupted. “You were with Allison’s aunt?”

Derek grimaced. “Fun fact, right? I was young, I was dumb and she convinced me that a couple wasn’t really a bad thing after all. And I get how it can be fine for some people; I don’t begrudge couples the right to exist. I just know that isn’t for me. I’ve been down that path and it hasn’t worked and I’d rather be alone than get hurt like that again.”

Lydia observed him thoughtfully, the plan that had been stirring in her head finally coming to the fore. “What if there was another option?”

Derek frowned. “Like what.”

“Say, hypothetically, you and Stiles found someone who would be willing to be with you, to form a triad. What would you do then?”

Confusion overtook Derek’s face as if the possibility had never occurred to him. “Huh?”

“What if you didn’t have to worry about being a couple? Would you still want to be with him then?” Lydia prodded.

Derek’s eyes widened like saucers as he caught on. “Lydia, if you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking…”

“You have to admit it makes sense,” Lydia reminded him. “You and I...we’ve been close since Peter. The only reason I’ve been rejecting Stiles is for the same reason you did; I want a triad. And I can tell by looking at both of you that you’re infatuated.”

“I don’t even know where this came from, I mean we’d gotten to the point where I’d say we were friends but I never thought...not until the other day. It came out of nowhere.”

Lydia shrugged, taking one of his hands gently. “I was talking to Allison about that earlier.” Derek raised a questioning eyebrow, which she ignored. “Apparently she found out that it’s normal for feelings of attraction to be...intensified when wolves are involved. I’m guessing that’s what happened with you and Stiles the other day. Maybe it’s not immediate with some people. I don’t really understand. But I do think it’s real. And I think it’s what happened with us.”

Derek shook his head determinedly. “No. I can’t...what you’re suggesting can never happen.”

“Why not?” Lydia challenged, crossing her arms and sitting up straight to impress her most intimidating look onto him.

“Because,” Derek choked out in a broken voice. “Everyone who gets close to me either betrays me or gets hurt. I care about you both too much to let that happen. I refuse to put you in danger by being too close to me.”

Lydia made a clicking noise with her mouth. “I hate to break it to you, but between Scott being a wolf and me being our resident dead body finder, I’d say we’re already surrounded by danger.”

“You don’t understand,” he whispered desperately. “I’m cursed.”

“Really,” Lydia returned. “Are we speaking literally or metaphorically here?” There was a time when that question would not have been necessary.

“Metaphorically,” Derek sighed. “But it might as well be literal.”

“Stop that,” Lydia insisted, instinctively leaning over and cupping his face.

“Stop what?” he asked in confusion, looking more vulnerable than ever at such a close proximity.

“Stop acting like you’re unlovable, Derek. Because you’re not.”

“But-”

Without thinking, Lydia closed the gap between them, cutting off his self-deprecating protests with a soft kiss. She fought to stay in control, though her senses felt momentarily dizzy with the heady feeling. Still, it wasn’t anything she hadn’t experienced before, though she understood it a little better now. It was both terrifying and reassuring. Slowly, she broke the kiss, resting their foreheads together so their eyes were mere inches apart. “Just consider it, okay?” she asked, her tone suggestively commanding. “Please?”

Derek looked like he was struggling with something again, though this time he seemed to lose. “I’ll think about it,” he finally sighed, head drooping.

“Good,” Lydia replied, regretfully pulling away so she could stand and leave. She wanted nothing more than to wrap Derek in her arms, what with that look on his face and all, but she knew that if that was ever going to happen, he needed to come to it on his own. “I hope you choose this. But whatever you decide...talk to Stiles. Tell him what you told me. Tell him it’s not his fault. You owe him that much.” Leaning down to press one last kiss on Derek’s forehead, Lydia quickly turned and left the apartment and a frantic looking Derek, knowing that all there was left to do was wait.

* * *

Derek really didn’t intend on considering it.

After Lydia left, Derek did everything he could to distract himself. He pulled on some shorts and went for a run, pushing his body to its physical limits. He picked up Chinese food from the place across town instead of his usual so that he could stay out of the loft longer. Somehow, being out and about allowed him an out to not think about the things he didn’t want to, but knew he must. He wondered if this avoidance made him a coward; it probably did but at this point in his life he really couldn’t care anymore.

Finally, though, he was forced to return home. He picked up a DVD from the library; he figured that would prevent him from stewing with his thoughts while he ate. He had picked some sort of gory thriller that he really had no interest in, but it was the only thing there that hadn’t make him think of Stiles or Lydia. Still, once he had polished off his dinner, Derek shut off the television in aggravation, the poorly done movie grating on his already frayed nerves. Stripping out of his clothes and tossing them violently into the hamper, Derek took a quick shower, focusing on the pounding droplets of water and the soapy suds rather than Lydia’s proposal. Once he was finished he quickly got ready for bed even though darkness was only just starting to tinge the sky. Pulling up the covers protectively in spite of the relative warmth of the loft, Derek focused on his breath, clearing his mind as he descended into a deep slumber.

* * *

Derek awoke, sun streaming in through his window and lighting up his closed eyelids with a warm glow. He hummed contentedly, slowly blinking open his sleepy eyes.

“There’s our sleeping beauty,” a familiar voice teased. Forcing his eyes fully open, Derek looked to his left and suddenly noticed Lydia curled up against him. A very, very naked Lydia.

“‘Bout time,” a voice came from his right. Derek turned to see an equally naked Stiles mirroring Lydia on the right side, a smug but adoring look in his face. Derek was suddenly aware of his own lack of clothing under the sheet they all shared, suddenly aware of the press of their nakedness against his own.

A part of Derek knew that something was wrong with this picture, but everything about it just felt so right. Peaceful.

Lydia looked at him thoughtfully, a hand tracing indecipherable swirls and lines into his skin. “We’re alright, Derek, I promise.”

A soft press of lips startled Derek from the right. “You should listen to her,” Stiles mumbled against his stubbled skin. “We’re happy here.”

“Me too,” Derek concurred when suddenly the room was plunged into darkness save for a reddish glow that illuminated Lydia and the shadows around her. She was pulled from the bed, her mouth contorted in a silent scream as her hair flipped backwards as if in slow motion, the eerie light reflecting off of every strand. Derek tried to reach out for her, to save her, but his arms were momentarily glued to his side. Frantically, he looked down at Stiles, but he wasn’t there. Looking up, he noticed a now clothed Stiles standing at the foot of the bed, glaring at him with a stony expression, armed crossed firmly over his chest. “What happened to Lydia?” Derek asked desperately, his head spinning from the sudden reversal.

“They killed her,” Stiles spat. “They killed her and it was all your fault. If you had taken your head out of your ass for one second and thought about someone else for a change, she might still be alive. If you weren’t so selfish about your own pain you might not have denied Lydia the one thing that could have saved her.”

Derek felt his mouth open and close like a goldfish. “But-”

“I don’t want to hear anything you have to say, Hale,” Stiles stated firmly. “You wanted to be alone? Well you get your wish now. Goodbye, asshole,” Stiles finished, spitting in his direction, the globule of saliva somehow hitting Derek square on the cheek.

* * *

Derek sat up straight in the dark room, hand flying to his tear stained cheek as he gasped for breath. Rationally, he knew it had only been a dream, his subconscious determined to work out what he was refusing to acknowledge. But he had to know for sure. He reached over to his nightstand, picked up his phone and quickly scrolling to Lydia’s information. Before he could think it through, Derek pressed call. He needed to hear her voice, needed to know she was okay after all. The image of her screaming haunted him. The line rang a few times before there was a click and the sound of rustling sheets.

“Derek?” Lydia mumbled sleepily, relief flowing through his body at the beautiful sound. “Why they hell are you calling me at three in the morning?” Derek glanced at the clock, grimacing when he realized she was right.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. I just…” he hesitated, not knowing how best to express this without causing Lydia any undue suffering. “I had a dream and something happened to you. I just...I needed to know if you were okay.”

“Safe and sound,” Lydia assured him, her voice a slight bit softer. “I promise.”

His heart twisted at the words, dream Lydia’s promise still ringing in his ears. “Okay. Good. Great.”

“Goodnight, Derek,” Lydia replied, amusement lacing her voice. “Try to get some rest.”

“Yeah, okay. Goodnight,” he replied before hanging up the phone. He spent a few minutes looking at her contact picture, his head spinning between his dream and reality. As he drifted off into an uneasy sleep a few minute later, Derek was fairly certain of what he had to do.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for sexual harassment/assault, implied attempted rape, (past) possession. This should be the end of the sexual harassment.

Lydia started as someone suddenly appeared next to her locker after school, though once she saw it was Stiles she managed to relax. “You really shouldn’t sneak up on people like that,” she chided as she continued to look for the lipstick that had mysteriously disappeared from her purse. She hoped that it had fallen into her locker because that stuff was expensive and she really didn’t want to have to replace it.

“Sorry,” Stiles apologized; she caught him wincing out of the corner of her eye.

“How’s it going with Scott?” she asked as she pulled out a sweater and handed it to Stiles.

“Still awkward. I haven’t brought up my furry friend situation yet. I don’t know...it feels wrong, somehow.”

“Have you heard from Derek?” Lydia replied, handing him a stack of notebooks.

Stiles snorted. “I have a feeling I’m never going to hear from that guy ever again.”

Lydia bit her lip. “I wouldn’t be so sure.” Something shiny caught her eye. “Ah ha, got it,” she proclaimed, reaching in and rescuing the abandoned tube, slipping it into her purse.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Stiles asked, his face twisted in confusion as she reclaimed her items, returning them to their proper place in their metal home. Lydia opened her mouth to reply when three large figures approached them.

“Well, well, well, what have we here?” Jeff leered, accompanied by Bradford and Mark, the worst culprits of her harassment. Stiles stepped in front of her slightly, but he seemed nervous facing the three of them. “If it isn’t Beacon Hills’ finest slut and virgin. I think you make a cute couple.”

“Back. Off.” Stiles demanded, placing his hands on his hips and tilting his chin up in defiance.

“What are you gonna do, hit me?” Bradford taunted.

Lydia saw Stiles ball his hands into fists. She quickly grabbed them, whispering in his ear, “They’re not worth it.”

“Yeah, but you are,” he replied, twisting out of her grip and punching Mark square in the jaw. “Damn, I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he gushed triumphantly, shaking out his hand before being shoved against a locker. Lydia started towards him but strong arms held her back, her assailant taking great amusement in her suffering. Lydia felt a flash of panic flood through her and she prayed that Scott was close by enough to pick up on it.

“You know,” Mark crooned as he took a few steps closer to Lydia, rubbing his jaw tenderly. “I think it’s about time that you put out. Maybe have your boyfriend here watch.”

“You’re sick,” Stiles spat, struggling vainly against Jeff’s brawn. “You’re monsters. I won’t let you touch her.”

Mark sneered. “I’d like to see you try.”

“I could say the same thing to you,” a familiar voice cut in. Lydia craned her head as much as she could in her current position to see Derek striding down the hall towards them, seeming to be composed but his eyes flashed with rage as he approached. Thankfully they remained decidedly human. “Let them go,” Derek commanded evenly, though the order wasn’t really necessary. He could be scary and intimidating when he wanted to be. Once their attackers had registered what was happening, they went into salvage mode, putting as much distance between themselves, Lydia and Stiles as possible. Presumably they were trying for plausible deniability.

“Who the hell are you?” Jeff asked gruffly.

“Who am I?” Derek asked, a steely edge to his voice. “I’m their partner,” he announced, causing Lydia’s heart to pound wildly. Sure, she had wanted this to happen but this was not how she pictured it in her head. At all. Derek walked over and stood between her and an extremely confused Stiles, wrapping an arm over both of their shoulders protectively. “And if you ever lay a finger or say or even _think_ one disgusting thing about either one of them, I won’t hesitate to report you. Now scram.”

Lydia exhaled deeply as they scattered off. “Thanks for the save,” she muttered, leaning her head against his shoulder.

“Okay, who is going to explain what the hell just happened here?” Stiles hissed.

“Not here,” Derek told him. “Come back to my place. We should talk.”

“We should…” Stiles trailed off, shaking his head in disbelief. “Never mind.”

“We’ll be there,” Lydia assured him.

Suddenly, Scott darted around the corner. “Are you okay?” he asked frantically as he stumbled to a halt in front of them. “Derek? What are you doing here?”

“Those assholes were at it again. It’s getting worse, Scott,” Stiles informed him.

“Lydia, you should have told me, I could have done something…” Scott insisted.

“It’s going to be okay now,” Lydia replied, glancing at Derek as a smile forced its way onto her face. “I’ve got this covered.”

* * *

Lydia followed Derek out into the parking lot, leaving a perplexed Stiles with Scott. “You know, when I suggested this and told you to talk to Stiles, I meant for you to do it the other way around,” she informed him dryly, arms crossed firmly over her chest.

Derek shot her an aggravated smile. “I know that,” he replied. “I was going to track him down after school let out. To talk.”

“Derek, what happened?” Lydia inquired. “How did you know what was going on?”

He shrugged, arms crossed tight over his chest and shaking his head in bewilderment. “I...I don’t really know. I just felt a pull, like I knew you were in trouble.”

“Just me?”

Derek hesitated before shaking his head. “Both of you. I could feel both of you.” Unfurling his arms, he reached out to place a hand gently on Lydia’s shoulder. “Are you alright?”

“I will be now,” she replied softly, looking into Derek’s emotion filled eyes. Acting on impulse, Lydia moved closer, allowing Derek to wrap her into a hug. She aimed straight for his lips, the exchange soft and relatively chaste but somehow grounding. “Thank you,” she whispered as she pulled back.

“Do you think he’ll come?” Derek asked, burying his face in her hair as he held her in his arms.

“I’ll make sure he does,” Lydia assured him.

“You know, I wasn’t sure about this, if I was making the right decision. I’m still not entirely sure. But after this...I think I am.”

Lydia pulled back, cocking an eyebrow at him. “Why, because you get to be the knight in shining armor? Because I don’t need that.”

Derek smiled tenderly, brushing a tendril of hair out of her face. “I know you don’t. That’s not what I meant. It’s just that feeling I had...it’s like we’re connected somehow. I can’t explain it but...this is the right path.” He sighed heavily. “Now we just have to get Stiles to see it that way.”

* * *

“You sure you’re okay?” Scott asked as Stiles paced back in forth in front of him, rubbing his left arm repeatedly.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Stiles replied distractedly, his gaze focused somewhere inward as well as on the tiles below his feet. Scott recognized it; it was how Stiles got when he needed to process something major. Something more was going on here. He felt a pang of guilt; these were his friends, he should know these things, not be wrapped up in his newfound (and admittedly amazing) love. But worse, he was their alpha. Even though it was a bit unconventional, they were his pack. His family. He had to work harder not to fail them again.

“What was going on with Derek?” Scott asked, curious. Stiles’ heart began to race at the mention of the name. Interesting. Maybe this was the complication that Stiles mentioned before.

“Hell if I know,” Stiles sighed. “One minute he’s kissing me, then he tells me to leave and the next thing I know we’re in a relationship together with Lydia.”

Scott shook his head. He couldn’t have heard that right. “Wait, what? He kissed you? Oh my gosh, dude!” he exclaimed, beaming and holding up a hand for a high five. Stiles glared at the offending appendage, which Scott slowly lowered, his face falling as well.

“Scott, he freaked. Like he couldn’t control himself or something and just needed me to leave. What if the same thing that’s messing with me is doing a number on him? It could be some kinda love potion or something, I don’t know.” Stiles started to chew on his lip nervously.

“Which would be worse?” Scott asked.

“Hmm?” Stiles replied.

“If it was some kind of mind control or if this is all real.”

Stiles paused for a moment, considering his answer. “Scotty, I honestly don’t know.”

* * *

As Stiles approached his beloved Jeep, he noticed Lydia leaning up against it, seemingly lost in thought as she looked up towards the overcast sky. “Where’s Derek?” Stiles asked casually, trying to maintain the illusion of nonchalance.

“Back at his place,” she informed him, pushing herself off the hood as he walked up. “He wants us to meet him there.”

Stiles sighed heavily. “What the hell is going on, Lydia?” he asked desperately.

She hesitated. “I think it will be better if we wait until we’re all together.”

“Uh uh,” Stiles protested, crossing his arms over his chest. “Last time I saw him he wanted nothing to do with me. What changed?”

Lydia reached out, tracing the side of his face with her palm. Stiles couldn’t help but lean into the touch a little. “He was just afraid, Stiles. If you haven’t noticed, he’s not the best people person. It was a surprise, that’s all. He’ll explain it better, okay?”

Stiles frowned. “Are you under whatever weird voodoo this is too?” he asked.

Lydia gave him a withering look. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“All this! You and Derek being all chummy all of a sudden and him and me getting personal...it’s not normal. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Love rarely does,” she informed him dryly. Stiles’ heart skipped a beat. Could that be all this was? It hardly seemed likely. He’d never heard of anything this powerful…except with Scott. Maybe it was a wolf thing. But Scott had known instantly. He and Lydia had known Derek for a while now. If this really was just love (love? could he love Derek Hale?), why had this strange bond they shared only come to light now? “We should get going.”

Nodding awkwardly, Stiles unlocked the Jeep. He wasn’t sure what would come of this meeting with Derek. His head was still reeling. But deep down in his heart, he knew that this was what he needed to do.

* * *

Derek waited anxiously for Lydia and Stiles to arrive, convinced more and more with every second that passed that they wouldn’t show up. He nearly jumped out of his skin at the faint rapping on his door announcing their arrival. He scurried over to answer it, his heart pounding and taking up residence somewhere in his throat. “Hi,” he croaked out as he slid open the door to reveal a glowering Stiles. Lydia stood next to him, gripping his arm tightly as if trying to keep him under control. This looked promising. “Come in, thanks for coming over,” Derek began as he let them inside.

Stiles snorted derisively. “Didn’t have much of a choice, now did I?”

“Stiles…” Lydia warned.

“Lydia, it’s fine. Um, I made some cookies if you want? Something to drink?”

Stiles arched an eyebrow at him skeptically. “I don’t want anything from you.”

“Maybe later,” Lydia informed him, giving Stiles a pointed look. “I think we have some things to discuss first.”

Nodding, Derek led them to the couch. “Today didn’t go like I planned…” he started, sighing heavily. “I’m sorry if I freaked you out and I’m sorry about the other day,” he told Stiles. He waited, half hoping for an “it’s fine, dude,” or “no hard feelings” even though he should have known better than to expect a simple _I’m sorry_ to make up for what he had done. “I just...I need you to understand. I’m just afraid of ruining your life.” Derek ran a hand absently through his thick hair, trying desperately to just spit out the words he needed to say. “You know why I’m so ‘grumpy’ all the time? It’s to keep people away. Because then I can’t hurt them and they can’t hurt me. But the other day...I haven’t felt anything like that in a long time and it scared me.”

Stiles frowned, though his features had softened, losing some of the hostility he had entered with. “Felt like what?” he asked.

Derek shrugged, feeling self-conscious. He wasn’t used to talking about his feelings like this. But once he had begun, the words tumbled out of his mouth as if they had a mind of their own. “Attraction. Affection. Love.”

Stiles’ looked up at him quickly, their eyes meeting. “Dude, we kissed once.” Derek kept his face impassive even as it felt like his heart was suddenly held in a viselike grip.

“We feel these things differently than humans, they’re more heightened, at least that’s what my mother always told me. I never really believed her, I never felt it before. But my past relationships were jokes; maybe it only happens when the feelings are real.”

Stiles hummed quietly, considering his words. “Like with Scott and Allison?” he asked, shooting an apologetic look in Lydia’s direction. She smiled at him reassuringly.

“Probably,” Derek replied.

“But why now?” Stiles asked, clearly intrigued. “We’ve known each other for years, why would this only come up now?”

“I don’t know,” Derek replied with a shrug. “I don’t think it’s usually as strong as in Scott’s case; his nature lent him to becoming a true alpha so I think he feels things stronger than most. It’s not like you and I were close, at least not until recently anyways.”

“I guess,’ Stiles replied, not really sounding convinced. “But what about you and Lydia? What’s up with that? How are you two so close?”

Derek exchanged a glance with Lydia. “We have to tell him,” she insisted with a knowing look.

“Yeah, we do,” he replied.

Stiles looked confused again. “Tell me what?”

Lydia took a deep breath. “Do you remember when Peter came back?”

“Yeah,” Stiles replied. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

* * *

_Derek slowly came to, his head throbbing from the blow he had taken. From Lydia. But something was wrong, it was like something was controlling her. She was strong, for sure, but she shouldn’t be able to knock out a werewolf. He blinked his eyes open, becoming aware of how he was being dragged across the grass, an errant rock stabbing into his back. He glanced up, following the length of his arms to see that Lydia was the one holding them. She was somehow dragging him over the familiar ground outside his home. Towards where he had buried Peter._

_The glassy eyed look she sported suddenly made sense. “No,” he croaked, needing to get through to her. “Lydia, come on, snap out of it. Don’t do this, don’t let him do this to you. Please Lydia, stop.” It was as if she couldn’t hear him; she probably couldn’t with Peter whispering into her head. She finally stopped near a gaping hole in the ground. Derek recoiled, knowing what was inside, but her iron grip refused to budge. She directed his right arm over the edge of the hole, Derek struggling all the way. “No, no, no, no,” he chanted, hating how incredibly weak he felt. He shuddered in revulsion as his fingers scraped a hand, the hand of Peter’s corpse. Suddenly a bolt of lightning shot out of the sky, hitting where they were connected, causing Derek’s body to spasm with the electricity flowing through it. He felt power draining out of his hand into Peter; he felt weaker with each passing minute. Derek was dimly aware of Lydia slumping down next to him, unconscious._

_Eventually, the shockwaves began to subside although Derek was still shaking violently. A looming shadow entered his vision. “Thanks for the pick me up, Derek,” Peter greeted cheerfully._

_“Fuck you,” Derek spat, wondering if Peter would kill him for his alpha powers like he had killed Laura._

_“Tisk, tisk, Derek. Is that any way to talk to your uncle?” Peter knelt down next to Lydia, placing his hand on her throat._

_“Get away from her,” Derek mumbled with as much force as he could muster._

_“Relax. I’m just checking her pulse. I’m not a complete monster.” Peter informed him in annoyance. “She’s alive, by the way.”_

_“No thanks to you,” Derek gasped._

_“Fine. I get it. You’re mad at me. Don’t worry, I’ll get out of your hair, then,” Peter replied, smirking. “You take care of her, now,” he added before turning around and taking off._

_Still shaking, Derek dragged himself over to where Lydia lay. He suddenly felt a rush of concern, far beyond anything he ever would have reasonably expected. Maybe he just felt guilty that harm had come to another innocent person because of their connection to him. Forcing himself up into a seated position, Derek cradled Lydia in his arms. “Come on, come on, wake up and tell me you’re alright,” he murmured, rocking her back and forth softly. He listened to her heartbeat, which was reassuringly steady. Slowly, after a few minutes, she started to blink her eyes open, looking around in confusion._

_“What’s going on,” she whispered. “What happened?”_

_“Peter,” Derek replied, gently running his fingers through her hair._

_Lydia shot him an incredulous look. “Isn’t he supposed to be dead?”_

_“He was controlling you somehow,” Derek explained. “From beyond the grave. There was lightening and somehow we brought him back to life.”_

_“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” Lydia repeated frantically. “I thought he was gone, I thought I didn’t have to worry about him anymore. But it was him. That boy...it had to have been.”_

_“What boy?” Derek asked softly._

_“He just...started showing up everywhere. He seemed so real…”_

_“It’s okay,” Derek reassured her._

_“No, it’s not,” she replied, forcing herself up. “I just unleashed a monster on the world.”_

_“Hey,” Derek instructed, turning her back towards him and cupping her face with his hand. “This isn’t your fault, not one bit.”_

_Lydia frowned as she noticed that his hand was shaking where it pressed against his skin. “Oh god, you’re hurt.”_

_“I’ll be okay,” he reassured her. “I always am.”_

_“Come on, we should get you inside,” Lydia insisted, hesitantly rising to her feet and holding out a hand to help Derek up. His legs felt wobbly beneath him; he wasn’t quite sure how he was going to make it the few feet to the house. Lydia seemed to sense that something was wrong. Wordlessly, she draped his arm around her shoulder, letting him use her as a human crutch. They started hobbling towards the burnt out shell Derek called home, breathing heavily. Slow but steady, they finally made it through the front door. Once inside, Derek leaned back against the wall, taking a moment to catch his breath. “Where’s your room?” Lydia asked._

_“Upstairs,” Derek gasped, wincing at the thought of climbing all of those steps._

_“Is there anywhere down here you could lay down?” Lydia asked as she eyed the stairs warily._

_Derek shook his head. “Everything was destroyed in the fire. I bought some cushions that I’ve been using to sleep on.”_

_“Wait seriously?” she asked, almost looking like her normal sharp self. “Why didn’t you say so before?” She guided him down so he was sitting on the floor, back propped up against the wall before turning towards the stairs. She disappeared for a few minutes before returning, her arms laden with his makeshift bed. Lydia settled the cushions down next to where he sat before helping him stumble onto them. She sat on the edge, a hand soothingly rubbing back and forth against his arm, causing chills to run up and down his spine._

_“Thanks,” Derek replied, smiling at her dopily. In spite of everything that had just happened, everything he should be worried about, he felt very much at peace. For a split second he worried that it might be a sign that he was dying, but he actually felt like he was regaining his strength. The cuts he’d received from being dragged were almost fully healed and the tremors were easing. A strange look crossed Lydia’s face before she was leaning over, pressing a kiss to Derek’s forehead. Derek looked at her in shock as she pulled back and she seemed equally confused by her actions. “Lydia…” Derek whispered, his hand once again finding her face, steadier this time._

_“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make things weird,” Lydia mumbled, not meeting his eyes._

_“You didn’t,” Derek informed her softly._

_“Oh,” Lydia replied, their eyes locking again. Suddenly, in one fluid motion that seemed to come from both of them at once, they were leaning into each other, lips against lips. Derek tried to hold himself back but Lydia was relentless as she moved her mouth against his own. He was starting to feel heady with emotion, blindsided with the sudden surge of feelings. Her hands began to wander, rubbing across and under his shirt, starting to shove it up his chest. His breath hitched as a hand traced over one of his nipples, his breath hitching at the barest hint of contact._

_Suddenly he snapped out of the trancelike state of euphoria enough to pull away from Lydia’s continued ministrations. “We can’t do this,” he informed her sadly._

_“Why not?” she asked, breathing heavily._

_“You’re too young,” Derek explained._

_Lydia pursed her lips, her usual fire returned to her eyes. “I’ve been with older guys before.”_

_Derek shook his head. “That’s not what I meant,” Derek replied, his gut burning with the image of Lydia with other older men who were willing to take advantage. “You’re underage. If we did anything...you wouldn’t legally be able to consent.”_

_A strangled smile slid onto Lydia’s face. “You’re sweet.”_

_“Besides,” Derek continued. “Aren’t you in a relationship?”_

_Lydia grimaced. “Yeah.” She looked down at him sadly. “But this feels different. Right.”_

_“I know,” Derek sighed, settling for pulling her close against his chest and was thankful when she didn’t resist. “But we can’t do anything. Not until you’re eighteen and not unless you are available.”_

_“Right,” Lydia agreed. “But we’re connected now, I can’t explain it but...I can feel it.”_

_“Me too,” Derek agreed. “If you ever need anything…”_

_Lydia smiled up at him tenderly. “I’ll know who to call.”_

* * *

“Wow,” Stiles replied. “So you two have been sitting on this for a while then.”

Lydia shrugged. “Later I just thought it had to do with adrenaline or something, it didn’t mean anything. I went back to Jackson and Isaac and that was that. I think Isaac was able to tell somehow. But our relationship ended once he bonded with Boyd and Erica. Then Jackson left for England and everything hit the fan.”

“All of which I am now realizing I was indirectly responsible for,” Derek told her remorsefully.

“It’s okay,” Lydia assured him. “It wasn’t entirely your fault.”

Derek snorted. “Thanks?”

“Aaaanyway,” Stiles interrupted. “What now?”

“It’s up to you,” Derek informed him candidly. “Lydia and I would both love if you would agree to be in a triad with us. But after today I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t.”

Stiles frowned in Lydia’s direction. “But I thought you were against the idea of us getting together to solve the bullying problem.”

“I was,” she agreed. “I wanted the same thing Derek did; a triad, a real relationship with feelings that everyone can reciprocate. I think this might provide that opportunity. But Derek’s right; we can’t force you to agree to this.”

Stiles sat quietly for a few moments, stewing with his thoughts. “I want to say yes,” he carefully replied. “But you two have so much more experience than I do. I just don’t want you getting bored with me.”

Derek snorted, looking amused. “I think anyone getting bored with you should be the last of your concerns.”

Stiles smiled wanly. He had spent the past several days moping because Lydia didn’t want him, Derek didn’t want him. He thought that he’d be forever alone. But now the tables had turned and they both were offering the one thing he’d wanted more than anything in the world...he wasn’t sure where the hesitation was coming from. “Are you both sure about this?” They nodded. Stiles exhaled sharply, his mind made up before he could second guess things again. “Okay, yeah. Let’s do this thing.”

“Really?” Derek asked, looking like an over excited puppy as his eyebrows shot up almost into his hairline.

“Yeah,” Stiles agreed and suddenly his space was full of Derek and Lydia, who had pulled him into a tight hug. “You know, I think I could go for one of those cookies right about now.”

* * *

“So what happens now?” Stiles asked, clasping his hands together, leaning forward a little bit.

“I have something for you two,” Derek announced, quickly shooting up off the couch and heading to the other side of the room. Stiles looked questioningly at Lydia who just raised her eyes in response, shrugging. Derek returned shortly after he departed, carrying a smooth wooden cylinder with the same shape as his tattoo on the cover, which he quickly screwed open. Placing the lid in the table, he turned the container over, spilling its contents into his hands. Stiles gulped at the sight of three matching golden rings.

“Bit presumptuous, going out and buying rings and all that,” Stiles quipped, trying to stay as calm as possible. A few hours ago he was hopelessly single and now a hot guy was giving him a ring? It was a lot to process.

Derek looked at him dryly. “They were my parents’.”

“Oh,” Stiles replied, stomach twisting in discomfort. “Aaaand now I look like an idiot.”

Derek smiled wickedly. “That’s okay, we can’t all be the smart ones in this relationship.”

“Ha, ha,” Stiles sighed dramatically. He didn’t miss the way Derek hid a smile, or at least attempted to.

Lydia shook her head at them fondly. “I’m not sure what I’m getting myself into.”

“But you love it,” Stiles replied, leaning over and kissing her briefly on the cheek without thinking about it.

For a split moment he was in limbo, ready for her to push him away or change her mind. Instead, her face matched Derek’s. “Yeah, I do,” she replied, looking extremely pleased. She nodded to the rings still cupped in Derek’s hand. “So they belonged to your parents?”

Derek nodded. “They recovered them after the fire...they gave them to Laura, she was the oldest. But she was only interested in women and, well, two of them are men’s rings. She said it would be easier if I had to get one changed rather than both. I think she just really wanted me to have them.” He picked one up, looking at it closely as it glinted in the light. “She told me to give them to some special people someday.”

Stiles cleared his throat awkwardly. “That’s really sweet, dude, like diabetes inducing sweet. But are you sure you want to give them to us? To me?”

Derek considered his words, head tilted slightly to the right. “I’m sure.” His lips quirked into an almost smile. “You are special. Both of you.”

“Wow,” Stiles exhaled.

Derek frowned. “Do you not want to…?”

“No, no, I do,” Stiles assured him. “Just taking it all in.”

“I’m all for this,” Lydia replied, holding out her hand. “Who wants to do the honors?”

Stiles exchanged a look with Derek, who nodded at him in understanding. Together, they took the ring, sliding it onto Lydia’s right hand. She smiled approvingly at it as she examined her new accessory, turning her hand back and forth. “Fits perfectly.”

“I think it has some sort of magic property or something, they automatically fit the wearer,” Derek explained. “Which ring would you prefer?” he asked Stiles, holding out his hand with the two remaining bands.

“Hey, they’re your family heirlooms, Derek. You get first dibs.”

Nodding appreciatively, Derek selected the one with the grooved pattern, leaving the one with tiny diamonds embedded in the gold for Stiles. It was as if Derek knew he liked shiny things. With Lydia’s help, they quickly put on their respective rings. The cool metal felt so bizarre against Stiles’ warm skin, but the slight weight on his finger was even more perfect than he could have ever imagined.

* * *

Lydia kept mostly quiet as she watched Derek and Stiles bond. It was actually really sweet to witness. She and Derek already had a rapport and she’d known Stiles most of her life even if their friendship was relatively new. But Derek and Stiles’ interactions had been different; testy at the start of their relationship before inexplicably becoming friends. There had always been this energy between them; perhaps it was just their attraction incubating, waiting to mature before letting itself be known. It was clear that their feelings, while sudden, were genuine; Derek had never looked so happy. They just needed time to adjust.

She ran her thumb across the ring on her finger. It certainly wasn’t the first ring she’d ever worn, but it was by far the nicest. Like the one Stiles chose, it was inlaid with small diamonds but the band was thinner. It also seemed to have some of the grooves that Derek’s had. She wondered if the designs had any significance. She suddenly felt an urge to find out all about Derek’s family, his past before everything was shot to hell. Lydia hoped that in time he would feel able to share some of that with them, but she knew that it could take time. Years, maybe.

Lydia started, realizing that she had inadvertently started planning out their lives together well into the future. That had never happened before, not even with Jackson and Isaac when it was all fresh and new and so real. The discovery was somewhat terrifying.

“Hey,” Derek interrupted her thoughts as he reached out towards her, tangling their hands together. “Sorry we’re leaving you out, I’m still not used to this whole triad thing.

“It’s okay,” Lydia insisted. “We have time to figure it out.”

“Speaking of which…” Stiles started, seeming almost shy, a new look for him. “Should we, you know, consummate this and everything?”

Lydia frowned. “There really isn’t any reason to rush into it. You can’t really force that kind of thing.”

“Yeah,” Derek agreed. “If we’re going to do this we have to do this right.”

Stiles frowned. “But don’t you want sex? You’ve been with people before…”

“Stiles,” Lydia started, reaching across Stiles’ lap. “This whole being a triad thing is more than just about intercourse.”

“I know,” Stiles replied, trying to play it cool. “I just thought...you’d expect that to be a thing.”

Lydia shrugged. “Eventually,” she replied before it finally clicked. “Oh, that’s why you’re asking.”

“What?” Derek asked, looking between them in confusion.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m the virgin in the room, whoopdeedoo,” Stiles mumbled, looking off to the side in embarrassment.

Derek looked at him questioningly. “Did you think we would judge you for that?”

Stiles shrugged in a way that almost looked like a spasm. “No...it’s not like it’s a secret or anything…You just have experience...”

“Experience means nothing, Stiles. Trust me, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.” Sure, she had some wonderful moments in her first relationship, and her time with Scott and Allison had been nice while it lasted. But she could remember the time in between when she used sex as a tool to keep herself safe; she quickly found that unappealing. Time after time with guys who would gladly hurt her if she hadn’t turned the tables and taken charge. She could have done without those experiences.

“Look,” Derek started, taking both of their hands. “Your first time should be special.” Stiles snorted at the cliché, to which Derek returned a withering look. “At least more special than mine was. It shouldn’t be about getting something in return or control. It should be an exchange between people who care about each other and want to make them feel good, at least in that moment.” Derek looked down at their entwined hands, tracing both hers and Stiles’ gently with his thumb. “You know, when we get there…it will be a first for all of us. At the very least it’s all of our first time together. But I’ve never been in a triad, let alone with a man. It’ll be our own kind of special.”

Stiles snorted, but the dopey grin on his face counteracted any unintended malice. “Who would have thought you were such a sap?”

Derek smirked. “Go big or go home.”

“I thought we weren’t going big yet,” Stiles teased.

Lydia grabbed one of the couch cushions, and, reaching across Derek, she whacked Stiles in the chest with it. Stiles snatched it out of her grasp, gasping, “Oh no you didn’t,” before trying to get her back. Derek dodged in front of the line of fire to take the blow. His body shook with laughter; it was a wonderful sound.

“My hero,” Lydia mock crooned, pecking him on the cheek. “But I can fight my own battles.” she leaned around Derek and over his lap and dove right to Stiles’ face, taking him by surprise with a kiss. Eyes open, she could see his eyebrows shoot up and Lydia couldn’t help but smile. Derek ran a hand over her back softly, maintaining contact as she focused on Stiles. Lydia leaned over, ostensibly to get closer to Stiles, but carefully rubbing over Derek’s lap. She heard a sharp intake of breath from above her head.

“Not fair,” Derek protested, wriggling his arms under her body in an attempt to lift her up, forcing her to break the kiss.

“Wow,” Stiles mumbled, his eyes wide and glazed over, seemingly oblivious to their roughhousing. “I could get used to that.”

“Me too,” Lydia agreed from her position draped awkwardly across both of their laps.

Derek looked down at them fondly. “Me three.”

* * *

Scott shook his head, trying to will himself to stay awake. For one, he had to finish _Moby Dick_ for English. It wasn’t easy. He knew more about whale penises than he ever wanted to. But more importantly, Stiles still wasn’t back, and even though his dad said he texted and was hanging out with Lydia, Scott felt uneasy. He wondered if the Sheriff knew about what was going on at school, wondered how he himself could have been so blind to have missed how bad it had gotten. He knew Lydia was having a hard time, but she seemed to have it under control and he was just so darn distracted…

He jumped as the door banged open. “Shit,” Stiles whispered, glaring at the door as he carefully shut it.

“There you are,” Scott greeted, and it was Stiles’ turn to jump in surprise.

“You’re still up?” Stiles asked, confused. Scott held up the book and Stiles nodded in understanding.

“Ah.”

“So…” Scott began as casually as he could muster, though he knew he was being utterly transparent. “How’s Lydia doing?”

Scott expected the cloud that had hung over Stiles for days now to reemerge, arms crossed over his chest as he glared at Scott. What he wasn’t prepared for was the goofy look that suddenly was plastered on Stiles’ face. “She’s great,” he gushed.

“You okay?” Scott asked before he noticed the light glint off Stiles’ hand...his right hand… “Oh my god, dude!” he exclaimed, pointing to the ring. Stiles glanced down at it; when he looked back up at Scott, that wide grin had returned. “Who? Who are you with?” he demanded, though the events of that afternoon offered the most obvious answer

“Lydia.” That wasn’t a surprise, Stiles had been in love with her since as long as Scott could remember. He was glad for both of them. Lydia deserved to be with someone who would treat her right. “And Derek.” Scott was still surprised by the whole thing, but somehow, the more he thought about it, their compatibility made sense.

Standing, Scott walked over to pull Stiles into a hug. “I’m happy for you, dude. I know how long you’ve wanted this.”

Stiles shrugged. “And I guess I can’t be that mad at you about Lydia, considering this wouldn’t have even been possible if you three were still an item.”

Scott raised his eyebrows optimistically. “So we’re good?”

Swallowing, Stiles nodded. “Yeah. We’re okay.”

* * *

Derek couldn’t help but hum happily to himself as he tidied up his apartment after Lydia and Stiles went home for the night. They had talked for hours, eventually moving over to his bed because it was much comfier to all cuddle together that way. He wished so badly that they didn’t have to leave, but they were still teenagers after all. Legally adults, but still in high school and still living at home with over concerned parents. Who probably would flip at the prospect of their child dating a werewolf so much older than them, but he would cross that bridge when he got to it. He was just about to curl up with a nice book when there was a knock on the door. Derek was almost about to answer it when a familiar scent crossed his nostrils, stopping him in his tracks.

“I know you’re in there, Derek,” Peter’s muffled voice spoke calmly.

“Go away,” Derek snarled.

“Oh, stop acting like such a petulant child and let your uncle in,” Peter snapped. Knowing that there was no other way to get rid of him, Derek slid open the door, glaring at his so-called uncle.

“You can drop that caring uncle act,” Derek sneered, their history where Lydia was concerned feeling much fresher than usual now that he had been thinking about it again. “You’re nothing to me. Say what you came to say and then go.”

“Something’s got you all excited,” Peter began, looking at Derek searchingly, starting to circle around him. He sniffed the air experimentally. “The Sheriff’s brat was here. As was our good friend Lydia Martin. How is she, by the way?”

“None of your damn business,” Derek growled through gritted teeth.

Peter smirked at him in satisfaction. “I think I hit a nerve. But you’re kidding yourself, you know. This will never work.”

Derek crossed his arms firmly over his chest. “And why not?”

Peter’s eyes focused on his hand. The ring. crap. “You gave them your parent’s rings?”

“They were mine to give,” Derek replied evenly.

“Interesting,” Peter replied. “But you do realize that both of your fathers would be alive if they had never gotten involved with Talia? Humans are weak, Derek. I thought you’d have learned that by now.”

Lydia’s screaming face from his dream leapt to mind, Stiles’ hard _She’s dead_ ringing in his ears. “Yeah, well, something gets everyone eventually. They’ll be fine.”

Peter smirked. “You keep telling yourself that, Derek. But when you come to your senses, let me know.” With that, Peter stalked out of the apartment, leaving Derek alone with his thoughts, wondering, against all common sense, if Peter could be right.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things lighten up this chapter. :)

It was move in day.

Of course, it wasn’t quite the same for Melissa. She wasn’t moving into an entirely new house. But said house was about to be fuller than it ever had been; it would still be an adjustment. Still, she was slightly confused as to why she wasn’t actually freaking out about this. What had started out as a favor was suddenly snowballing into what she didn’t know, but she was anxious to find out. Since the wedding she’d spent almost every evening with her new husbands and it was slowly becoming her favorite part of her day. For so long it had just been her and Scott that she forgot what it was like to just hang out with other adults.

A car honked several times, Melissa’s mouth quirking into a smile as she stepped outside the front door as the Sheriff got out of his car. “You ready for this?” he asked, extending his arms for a hug.

“Bring it,” Melissa replied, grinning as he pulled her close. Without thinking, she leaned in and brushed a light kiss on his cheek. The Sheriff suddenly stilled, and only then did Melissa realize what she had done. “So…” she started awkwardly as she backed up, trying to sidestep the moment. “Stiles making you do this all yourself?”

“Nah,” the Sheriff replied, shaking himself slightly. “He and his new partners are bringing over a second load in the Jeep.”

“Really,” Melissa replied somewhat skeptically, crossing her arms over her chest. “So how’s that going so far?”

The Sheriff shrugged, opening up the trunk and lifting a few bags out to hand to Melissa before hoisting one of the boxes into his own arms. “It’s only been a few days.”

Melissa shot him a pointed look. “He got a ring the day they started dating. You and I both know that’s not normal.”

The Sheriff shrugged, eyes twinkling. “It worked for us, didn’t it?” Melissa rolled her eyes as they started to carry their load to the house.

“What, started flirting without me?” Chris called out from behind them, walking next to a heavily laden Allison and carrying a box of his own.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Stilinski replied with a wink. Melissa bit back a grin as she pushed open the door to let the others inside.

“Oh my gosh, you guys are acting way too cute for being fake married,” Allison grumbled once they were safely inside, depositing their loads into the living room.

“Now you know what it feels like for us watching all you lovesick teenagers all the time.” Chris looked slightly taken aback as he realized the implications of what he had just said.

Allison shook her head knowingly at them, in that moment seeming like the only adult in the room. “Whatever you say, Dad.” She turned to Melissa. “Is Scott upstairs?”

Melissa shook her head. “He went to pick up Kira, they should be back soon.”

“Great,” Allison replied with a teasing grin. “I guess us lovesick teenagers can get our revenge.” Chuckling, she walked over to kiss her father on the cheek before heading back outside.

Stilinski arched his eyebrow. “What was that all about?”

“Nothing,” Chris replied, a little too quickly. “Come on, we’ve got work to do.”

* * *

Stiles was thankful that Derek had his own car. It meant that they could haul everything to the new Casa McGentski even faster. It also helped because there was no way that he could have fit all three of them and enough stuff to constitute a full load in his trusty old Jeep.

“You sure you’re okay with this?” Stiles asked Lydia, who was sitting next to him in the passenger seat, twirling a lock of hair around her finger anxiously.

“I’m fine,” Lydia assured him for the tenth time. Stiles snorted, earning himself a viewing of the patented Lydia Martin bitchface.

“I’m just saying, you’re on edge. I mean, not like, banshee ‘I hear dead people’ on edge, but not normal mellow Lydia.”

She arched an eyebrow at him. “Mellow?”

Stiles scrunched up his face. “Not really the right adjective, is it. Feisty?”

Lydia grinned, seeming to relax a little bit. “That will do.” Her smile faded from her eyes, though it remained perched on her lips, as they pulled up in front of the house. “I didn’t know she was going to be here,” she whispered, her voice suddenly ragged.

Following her line of sight, Stiles saw Kira holding a box that was about half as big as she was towards the house. Allison and Scott were watching her, Allison with her arms across her chest, amused and Scott with a dopey grin on his face. “I didn’t either,” Stiles replied, slightly pissed at Scott for not giving him the heads up. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want. I shouldn’t have asked you to help, that was dumb…”

“No, it wasn’t,” Lydia reassured him. “Let’s do this,” she decided firmly.

“Are you-”

“Yes, I’m sure!” she snapped. “Now let’s get out of the car before people think we’re up to something.” Just then there was a tap on the driver’s side window, drawing their attention to a vaguely annoyed looking Derek, though he didn’t look quite as annoyed at usual, so Stiles suspected it might be a front for the benefit of the others. Maybe. He still wasn’t sure how to read Derek now that there were _feelings_ involved. Rolling down the window, Stiles shot him the most unimpressed look he could, though he worried he probably just looked constipated. “Hands off the merchandise Hale.”

“Are you gonna help unload all of your crap, or am I going to be the one doing all the heavy lifting?” Derek asked, arms crossed tightly in front of his chest, head tilted to the side a little.

“That’s why we keep you around, your super werewolf muscles,” Stiles replied, reaching out and gripping Derek’s (rock hard, sheesh) bicep, jiggling his grip slightly. Derek’s eyebrows rose in response, and he stared pointedly at where they were connected. Stiles half expected a repeat of their “I’ll rip your throat out with my teeth” days until he saw the movement around Derek’s mouth, as if he was fighting really hard not to smile.

“Dork,” Derek finally muttered, pulling out of his grip as he walked around the car to Lydia’s side, opening the door for her. “You gonna be okay with this?” he asked softly, nodding over to where Kira was re-emerging with her new partners.

“Jesus,” Lydia replied rolling her eyes. “Both of you, I’m not going to break over a girl.”

Derek flushed, looking guilty. “Sorry,”

“Me too,” Stiles added.

“Don’t be,” Lydia replied as she stepped out of the car, wrapping her arms around Derek and kissing him square on the lips. Stiles would have been jealous if it wasn’t so damn hot...he never quite understood before how all the mechanics of this worked; it didn’t come naturally to him like it seemed to for most people. But in this moment, with his own pair of partners...everything felt right. Lydia pulled back a little from her kiss. “Besides,” she replied, leaning out slightly so that Stiles would be included in the conversation even as she was tangled with Derek. “If I need to, I think I know two pretty attractive men who might help put on a show.”

Stiles swallowed, wishing that they had the whole day to spend at Derek’s place rather than lugging boxes with the family. Damn, he could get used to this.

* * *

Kira swallowed nervously as Lydia, Stiles, and an older man she’d never met (but who she assumed was Derek Hale from the way Lydia shoved her tongue down his throat) arrived; Scott had mentioned they were dating. Lydia had never _not_ been nice to her, and Stiles was...well, he was protective of Scott. But he had gotten better. Still...she couldn’t help but feel like the other woman. There was always this cloud of awkwardness hanging over their every interaction. It was silly, she knew they would be here when Scott asked if she wanted to help, but somehow, staring into his warm brown eyes, it hadn’t seemed like that much of an issue.

Now, her stomach decided to do back flips.

She let Scott run ahead to greet them, trying to put off the inevitable. Kira started as a cool hand slipped into hers, glancing over at a calmly smiling Allison. “Relax, it’s going to be fine,” she reassured her softly.

Kira smiled at her weakly. “How are you so calm about this?”

Allison shrugged. “My dad taught me how to compartmentalize feelings. It’s mostly for horrible evil-fighting related things, but you know, works just as well for awkward breakups.”

“I’m sorry,” Kira sighed, wincing.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Allison told her firmly, looking her right in the eyes with a look that meant business. Kira tried her best to smile back, but it came out more like a grimace.

“Kira, come here,” Scott called her over. Nodding reassuringly, Allison let go of Kira’s hand, urging her forward. Scott grinned widely as she approached, and she couldn’t help but feel more confident in her approach; his bubbly attitude was infectious. “I’d like you to meet someone. Kira, this is my good friend and mentor Derek Hale. Derek, Kira Yukimura.”

“Mentor, huh?” Derek asked, shooting a questioning and almost...flustered look towards Scott before focusing on her. “It’s nice to finally meet you.” Derek spoke politely, offering his hand, though he seemed a little reserved. Probably because she was the reason his new girlfriend had been heartbroken. Great.

“Same,” she replied, shaking his hand enthusiastically. “And congratulations on your relationship! I guess it was a good think I came along, so you all could get together!” She froze for a second before wincing. “That didn’t come out right,” she muttered in embarrassment.

“It’s alright,” Lydia assured her, smiling tightly. Stiles shot her a skeptical look. “What, she’s not wrong.”

“Hey! Can we get some help over here?” Scott’s mother called out as she carried another box inside. Kira thanked her mentally for the save from the worst introduction she had ever been a part of her entire life. But the next time Lydia saw her, the smile almost reached the redhead’s eyes, a marked improvement from her polite but frosty reception from some of their other encounters. Kira decided that could be considered progress.

* * *

Melissa wasn’t quite sure how they had done it, but many hands made quick work. Sure, there were still boxes waiting downstairs to be unpacked, but everything was in the house and the essentials were in their new homes. In spite of all the hectic activity, it had been a fun day. The kids had gotten along remarkably well considering the recent tensions, and after seeing how Derek was around Lydia and Stiles, she was warming up to the idea. It still seemed a little weird because of his age but somehow they made it work. And, she rationalized, Derek had been forced to grow up too soon. Maybe this was his way of reclaiming that lost time. Plus, she knew how much Scott respected him; Stiles would be fine. But her stepson’s new relationship was not the most perplexing issue of the day. Instead, Melissa couldn’t help but fixate on the many moments of flirtation interspersed between hauling boxes and putting things in drawers and closets. Something had shifted in their dynamic and none of them seemed willing to bring it up. For now, she could be okay with that.

After a nice, refreshing shower, Melissa made her way to the bedroom, ready for a good night’s sleep. Pushing open the door, she noticed Stilinski and Chris standing awkwardly on opposite sides of the room, both looking her direction as she entered. “So, um,” Sher mumbled. “How’re we gonna do this?”

Melissa looked back and forth between then with one eyebrow raised. “We’re just sharing a bed. There’s no reason to make this weird.” Both of her husbands looked skeptical. “Come on, let’s do this. I promise, I don’t bite.” Biting back grins, they both nodded. “Alright, then.” She walked over to the mattress, yanking back the sheets before sliding in between them, placing herself dead center, patting the bed on either side. “Come on, boys.”

Almost reluctantly, Chris and Stilinski joined her. Melissa wondered about their sudden shift; it was a far cry from their behavior earlier in the day. Maybe the prospect of sharing a bed was more terrifying than meaningless flirtation. She looked to either side once they settled in. The Sheriff was lying with his back facing her. Chris was ramrod straight, staring up at the ceiling. It was probably the most awkward bedroom experience she’d ever been a part of, and that was saying something considering some of the things she had gotten up to in college. She figured comfort would come in time; it was another adjustment. The day had taken its toll, her eyes forcing themselves shut before she could think about it too much.

* * *

The next morning, Scott woke up early. He slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Allison who was curled up beside him. That was something he could certainly get used to. He thought it would be nice to surprise everyone with a large breakfast; they had another long day ahead of them trying to sort through everything and fit everything into their new home. Unfortunately that required getting up. He made his way down the hall quietly, stopping for a moment as something caught his eye as he passed the open door to his mother’s room.

All three adults were clustered in the middle of the bed, his mother in the middle, snuggling each other. They all wore blissful looks of contentment, and though Scott was a biased judge, he thought his mother looked happiest of all. It might have been one of the most adorable things he’d ever seen. Grinning, Scott continued on his way to the kitchen, thankful that after all these years of hardship, something was finally going right for his mom.


	10. Chapter Eleven

The Sheriff couldn’t help but smile at the smell of food wafting through the door as he jiggled the key out of the lock. It had been a long time since he’d come home to a warm cooked meal; Stiles had attempted to surprise him once but only succeeded in almost burning the house down. He’d been banned from using the stove unsupervised for a long time. Though to be fair, he was eleven at the time...he’d probably be fine now. Maybe. If Scott was there to supervise.

“Melissa?” the Sheriff called out. “I thought you would still be at work.”

“Guess again,” Chris replied, emerging from the kitchen, a bright forest green apron tied around his waist, a smudge of what looked like flour on his face. “Don’t look so disappointed, she should be home any minute.”

“I’m not disappointed,” the Sheriff protested, hanging up his jacket. “Just surprised. Didn’t know you were handy in the kitchen.”

Chris shrugged, smirking. “I’m full of surprises.” He hesitated, looking at him cautiously. “Someone had to pick up the slack after Elaine died, and then when Vicki…”

“Ah,” the Sheriff replied awkwardly. “I never really got the hang of it myself.”

“How do you do it? I know it’s been a bit longer for you,” Chris replied, settling down on the couch. Stilinski sat next to him. This had been a topic they both had unconsciously avoided. Yet this moment felt like the appropriate time to finally bring it up, even if he was tired after a long shift and there was the distinct possibility of something on the stove catching fire.

“Booze. Lots of it,” he replied dryly. “And Stiles. Had to keep going for him.”

Chris smiled grimly. “I know what you mean.” He shook his head slowly back and forth. “I don’t know what I would have done without Allison. I think she ended up taking better care of me than I took care of her.”

“Been there, done that,” the Sheriff commiserated. “How long did you know her mothers?”

Chris smiled fondly as his thoughts transcended into the past. “We grew up together. We all came from hunter families, that whole thing kind of operates like aristocracy. It’s wasn’t quite an arranged marriage, it was just expected that we would end up together.”

“Well, that’s a lot of pressure.”

“Yeah,” Chris replied. “Luckily for us we all got along wonderfully. They were my best friends. I miss them.”

“If you don’t mind me asking…”

“How they died? Elaine went out one night on her own to do some tracking. She should have been able to handle it, she was one of the most skilled marksmen I’ve ever see. But somehow they’d masked their numbers, it was an ambush. They found her body the next day.”

“I’m sorry,” the Sheriff replied. “We don’t have to do this.”

Chris smiled sadly. “It’s okay. It’s nice talking to someone who knows what I’m talking about, as morbid as that sounds. I’m not used to talking about my feelings.” The Sheriff couldn’t help but snort, eliciting a heatless glare from Argent. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that. Anyways, Vick...she was bitten.” Chris hesitated, a strange look coming across his face that the Sheriff suspected had nothing to do with his painful past.

“What aren’t you telling me?” he asked, suddenly feeling uneasy. “Do we know who did it?”

Chris nodded once. “Derek.”

The bottom dropped out from the bottom of the Sheriff’s stomach. “Derek. Hale. As in the Derek Hale that is currently dating my _son_?”

“The same,” Chris confirmed.

“How is he still breathing?” Stilinski asked in confusion.

“It was an accident. He was trying to protect Scott. Vick...we were hunting them back then. She was trying to kill Scott, to get him away from Allison. We wanted her safe. Only we were trying to shield her from the wrong things. Anyways, the old code we used to go by...basically after Vicki was bitten, she had to kill herself to maintain her honor.” A hard darkness settled over his face. “That night was when I realized I couldn’t live like that anymore. No code was worth that price.” He swallowed thickly.

“So Stiles…?”

“He should be fine. One thing I’ve come to learn is that Derek is fiercely protective of the people he cares about.” He shook his head. “Enough doom and gloom, how about you? How did you meet your wives?”

“We met in college,” Stilinski began. “One of my buddies down the hall of my dorm dared me to ask out this hot senior our sophomore year. He said he’d pay me twenty bucks if she said yes and I was running low on laundry money so I agreed.” He laughed deprecatingly at his past self. “She turned me down flat. I ended up going off to a restaurant to sulk and the waitress took pity on me. That was Claire. Ten minutes into that meal and I had forgotten the other girl existed. So of course I slip Claire my number as I paid the check, real smooth like.” He chuckled fondly. “Even years later I don’t think I ever saw her that mad. Later she told me that she’d have poured a pitcher of water on me if it didn’t mean losing her job. ‘Course by that point I felt like a total idiot, so I apologized and left. Then I got a call from her a few days later, asking if I wanted to meet her and her girlfriend. I said ‘hell yeah’, and we met up at some coffee shop the next day. Only, get this. Her girlfriend? It was the hot girl I asked before I went to drown my sorrows in curly fries. And that was Claudia. The look on her face was pretty priceless, though I was told so was mine. Turns out she was tipped off about the bet and declined on principle. Once I explained what had happened and we spent an hour or two together at that place, she was able to get past that.” He grinned. “I’ll never forget the look on my buddy’s face when the three of us walked past his room arm in arm. He ended up giving me the money anyways.”

Chris grinned, his face crinkling up adorably. “That’s a good story. You must of had some good times.”

“We did,” the Sheriff replied, his face falling slightly. “Didn’t last long enough though. We got married about a year after Claire and I graduated, Claudia ended up pregnant not long after that. We were good for a few years, but when Stiles was about seven...Claudia was diagnosed with dementia. She deteriorated pretty quickly. It was hard on both of us, but she and Claire had known each other longer. After Claudia passed, Claire was in real bad shape. She had trouble being around Stiles, she tried to it hide from him but he’s a perceptive kid. About a year later she was in a car crash and died.”

“Wow,” Chris replied. “I can’t imagine, losing one right after the other.”

“Yeah,” Stilinski replied, suddenly overwhelmed with emotion. “It was rough. And I don’t think it was intentional or anything...but she hadn’t been the same. It was at least some small comfort to think that she wasn’t suffering anymore and that maybe she and Claudia would be together at least.”

“Was there ever anyone else? Before them?”

The Sheriff shrugged. “I mean, I dated here and there but it never really worked out with any of the women I was with. And after...well, I had a kid to raise.”

“Wait,” Chris responded, leaning towards him slightly. “You mean I’m the only man who’s come into your life?”

The Sheriff noticed dimly that his heart race was increasing inexplicably. “I guess you can say that. You?”

“I was only ever with my wives,” Chris replied. “I’ve never kissed a man before.” The Sheriff was slightly surprised at this sudden turn of events, though not displeased. What shocked him more than anything, however, were the words which next came out of his mouth.

“Wanna give it a try?” he dared Argent cockily.

Chris’ eyes widened. “Are you sure?” he asked, tentatively.

“Why not?” Stilinski replied, simultaneously racking his brain for a reason it didn’t make any sense but kept coming up short. “We are married after all.” Chris reached out, his eyes examining him seriously as he cautiously placed his hand right on Stilinski’s cheek, fingers just brushing his ear. It was such a confusing feeling. Sure, it felt different than anything he’d ever experienced with a woman; Chris’ fingers were much thicker, sturdier, rougher. But it was also one of the first instances of intentionally intimate contact he’d had since losing his wives. It was both unsettling and unremarkably pleasant. Slowly, as they moved together, Stilinski allowed his eyelids to flutter shut, not quite sure what to expect. He inhaled sharply at the first contact of their lips, but Chris started almost imperceptibly petting his fingers back and forth on his cheek in a soothing way and it was hard not to relax into the touch. Stilinski finally let himself surrender to the sensation, blissfully turning off his brain and just riding the wave. A hint of stubble grazed his lips as they moved against Chris’; that was certainly new. The proportions were all unfamiliar yet wonderful, stirring something inside his chest that he had thought was extinguished years ago. He tilted his head slightly to the right, pushing up closer and cupping his own hand against Argent’s rough face.

Suddenly, the sound of the door opening startled them, each man shooting backwards as they disentangled themselves. The Sheriff turned his head to the door, where a smirking Melissa was watching them with her hands on her hips. “By all means, don’t let me stop you,” she told them, eyebrows raised as if daring them to get back to it.

 

Chris stood up quickly, looking about as flustered as that man could get. “I, um, should check on dinner,” he mumbled before stumbling back to the kitchen. Melissa just stood there, her gaze fixed on Stilinski.

“What,” he finally asked, crossing his arms over his chest protectively.

“You liiiiike him,” she teased, walking over to poke him in the shoulder.

“So do you,” the Sheriff countered, though he regretted it the moment her face fell.

“That’s not what this marriage is and you know that,” she replied tiredly.

The Sheriff raised him eyebrows. “I think you’re the only one who still thinks that, Mel.”

Melissa frowned, looking at him questioningly. “What’s that supposed to mean.”

The Sheriff sighed heavily as he pushed himself up into a seated position. “It means the three of us should have a talk.”

* * *

Melissa was nervous that night as she got ready for bed. The three of them hadn’t really had a chance to speek about what happened that afternoon, the kids came home right after she did and things got hectic and then it got late. She wasn’t sure if she should broach the subject tonight or wait until a more reasonable hour. But she knew that she wouldn’t get any sleep with the awkward elephant in the room joining them in the bed.

“Okay, boys, we’re gonna settle this right here, right now,” she announced as she walked into the bedroom.

Chris raised an eyebrow. “Settle what?”

She shot a look at the Sheriff. “You didn’t tell him?”

“Sorry?” he replied, wincing.

“It’s fine,” Melissa assured him, sitting at the foot of the bed and crossing her legs underneath her. “We need to talk about what I walked in on earlier.”

“Mel, I can explain,” the Sheriff began but she held her hand up to stop him.

“You really don’t have to. I just...this is not a normal situation. I don’t want either of you to get hurt because of me-”

“Mel, we both chose this of our own volition,” the Sheriff assured her, with Chris nodding his agreement. “We knew what we were getting into.”

Melissa smiled at them weakly. “I’m not sure I did,” she confessed.

“What do you mean?” Chris asked.

“I didn’t realize how amazing this would be,” she admitted. “How nice it would be living together, having you both around all the time...I haven’t felt like this in a long time.” Melissa cursed the tears welling up in her eyes, blinking them away furiously in an effort to stop their descent. “And maybe this is inappropriate or I’m making things up in my head, but I think I might be falling in love with both of you and that scares the hell out of me.” Chris and Stilinski exchanged an awkward look. “What?”

“You’re not the only one who’s felt that way,” Chris explained. “I guess maybe we’re all a little rusty at our flirting game.” The Sheriff snorted and Chris punched him in the arm playfully and suddenly everything clicked, a strong sense of family rushing over her. It wasn’t coming out of nowhere; it had been niggling at the back of her brain ever since they had tied the knot.

“So, you’d be interested in seeing where this goes?” she asked tentatively.

“Well, considering that we are married,” the Sheriff began, grinning. “I think we could give it a shot.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel obligated-” she was cut off by Chris, who leaned forward to capture her mouth in a fierce kiss.

Chris grinned as he pulled back, glancing over at Stilinski. “Trust me, not an obligation.”

“I’d better see for myself,” the Sheriff teased. “You know, just to make sure.” He leaned in for his own kiss and it felt so different from Chris’ (whose hand was still resting with the slightest pressure on her knee) but it thrilled her in a different but equally amazing way. Maybe it was just the passing of time and the cloud of the years she had been let down, but Melissa could never remember feeling this in her first marriage. She had thought she was in love back then, and she probably was. But kissing Carrie and Rafe had never felt like this, never felt so natural. It scared her, how much she was feeling so suddenly, but she supposed it made sense. She’d known Sher for years and considered him a close friend, practically family, especially after her first marriage had ended. Chris was a relative newcomer, but almost being sacrificed together does create a bond with a person. She almost wondered if that horrific ordeal had happened for a reason. Maybe it was meant to shove them all together, a push in the right direction. She wondered if they ever would have if Rafe hadn’t intervened. She didn’t want to dwell too much on that.

Once he backed away, leaving Melissa blinking out of the pleasurable haze, she looked between the two men. “We should take this slow,” she announced.

“Yeah,” the Sheriff replied.

“For sure,” Chris confirmed. They looked between each other for a pregnant moment before simultaneously launching themselves towards the center of their little triangle, mouths and hands exploring in a rush of hormones and friction, throwing all caution to the wind.

It was exhilarating.


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for graphic sex.

Lydia couldn’t help but notice that Stiles had been quiet all night. They had shared a relaxing evening in with Derek, splitting a pizza and watching a movie, something that had become somewhat of a regular occurrence in the past few weeks. She relished the repetition of it. The relationship had come on so suddenly, out of nowhere, that it was nice for there to be some sense of routine. She missed spending time with Allison; after everything, she was still her best friend. But Allison was wrapped up in her new relationship as well; Lydia knew that once things settled down and the initial novelty wore off, things could return to normal. Plus, she knew that all those werewolf hormones were making the situation more complicated.

But that didn’t explain Stiles’ strange behavior. She had a feeling that had Derek noticed it too; he kept casting what he must have thought were surreptitious looks in his direction. Hoping that everything was okay, Lydia slowly slid her hand into Stiles’, biting back a grin at the pleased look that spread onto his face. Whatever it was couldn’t be too serious.

“So,” Derek spoke, breaking the awkward silence that descended once the movie had ended. “Should we, um, move this to the bedroom?” Lydia swore he was blushing, and the sight was adorable. That was one of the most amazing things about this whole thing, Lydia thought, seeing Derek at his most vulnerable. She knew trust wasn’t easy for him. Hell, they all had their trust issues. But it felt nice to open up to both of them, to let them inside her heart in a way that was so different than her previous relationships.

“No,” Stiles replied, startling both of them as he gazed down at his knees. “I mean, not yet. I need to say something.”

“What is it?” Lydia asked softly.

“I don’t want to wait anymore,” he insisted urgently. “I know we said we’d take it slow and you’d want everything to be all hunky dory. But I don’t need that. And maybe this is just the horny teenage boy in me talking, but it will be special because it’s with you. See, I love you so much that I am willing to sink to the level of clichés,” he huffed. Lydia’s heart stuttered over the word.

“Love?” Derek asked, something hopefully flickering in his eyes.

Stiles’ eyes widened as he registered the words. “That wasn’t quite how I intended to deal with that one,” he replied with a wince. “Too much?”

“Not at all,” Derek murmured, reaching over to capture Stiles in a kiss, eliciting a squeak from his throat. As she watched them, Lydia couldn’t help but contemplate how the hell someone who squeaked like a chew toy was still so damn attractive.

“Wow,” Stiles muttered as Derek pulled back. “Still not used to that.”

“I’m feeling a little left out here,” Lydia teased. She regretted it the instant she voiced the words when she saw Derek’s face crumble. “Was it something I said?”

Derek sighed heavily. “I don’t know how to do this,” he confessed, standing from the couch and gripping his hair tightly in his hand. “I don’t know the first thing about being in a real relationship. I don’t want to screw this up.”

“Dude, no one knows how to do everything,” Stiles reassured him.

“I know,” Derek admitted. “But I guess I’m not sure if I’m ready to do this without failing you.”

“Honey,” Lydia interrupted in her most soothing voice. “You’re over thinking this. Just relax.” Derek looked up at her slightly wounded, and Stiles raised his eyebrows a bit.

“Isn’t that a little harsh?” he asked, rising to Derek’s defense. This was not going how she intended at all.

“I just mean that we’re not Kate and we’re not Jennifer,” she explained.

Stiles frowned, looking between them. “Who are Kate and Jennifer?”

Derek hesitated, his throat bobbing as his eyes flashed with uncertainty before settling into a steely resolve. “My exes.”

“His manipulative exes who used him,” Lydia clarified. Stiles grew indignant, though thankfully his ire was no longer directed at her.

“Seriously dude?’ he asked Derek, standing up to pull him into a hug. Derek stiffened at the unexpected movement before relaxing into Stiles’ embrace. “You literally could have your pick of people and you pick the ones who’d hurt you the most. Sheesh, no wonder you’re gun-shy.”

Derek smiled softly, his chin resting on Stiles’ shoulder, his eyes meeting Lydia’s. “You’re right. You aren’t them.” He pulled back, leading Stiles back to the couch, settling next to Lydia and pulling Stiles down on the left. “It isn’t my strongest trait. But...I do trust both of you,” he confessed, holding onto their hands tightly as he kept his gaze fixed on his lap. “I want this. And I refuse to let them control my life anymore,” he announced firmly.

Lydia leaned over, pressing a kiss on his cheek. “We’ll figure out how this works. Together.”

Derek nodded once, glancing over at Stiles. “Are you still up for it?”

Stiles shot him a smug look. “What kinda question is that?”

Derek’s lips quirked, trying not to smile, a feat which failed when he glanced over to see that Lydia was fighting the same losing battle. “Touché.”

“Let’s move into the bedroom now?” Lydia asked, tugging on their hands as she stood.

Stiles and Derek both nodded, and the trio made their way across the loft. Stiles started fidgeting nervously, his fingers ghosting over the hem of his shirt. “So how does this work?” he asked, looking uncertain. Lydia met Derek’s gaze; she didn’t know if it was some sort of supernatural communication, but their minds seemed to be in sync. It would have been creepy with anyone else, or if it wasn’t so useful, but with Derek it was another layer of intimacy, another way he was allowing her to be close to him. It was nice not having to fight that anymore.

“We’ll show you,” Lydia explained, walking slowly towards him before grabbing his face with both hands and kissing him determinedly, her lips and tongue guiding Stiles’ quick learning movements. As they kissed, she reached out her left hand in Derek’s general direction, blindly grasping at his hand and pulling him close into the fray. “We’ll take care of you. You don’t have to worry about anything,” she cooed.

“This time,” Derek quipped. Lydia knocked into him with her shoulder playfully, watching as Stiles’ pupils widened in arousal at the prospect. “Hmm,” he hummed, looking Stiles up and down.

“What?” Stiles asked.

“I think he’s wearing too many clothes,” Derek replied in the mock serious tone of a television doctor.

“Hmm, I think you might be right,” Lydia replied, playing along. Stiles’ eyes lit up at the banter; the little fucker was into this, sheesh. Why was she surprised? What was more surprising was how much it felt like she was into the idea; none of her other relationships had this level of playfulness. It was still strange thinking of Derek as playful. “What do you think we should do?”

Derek wrapped a hand around the hem of Stiles’ shirt. “May I?”

“God yes,” Stiles moaned, lifting his arms up in the air without prompting, allowing Derek to remove his shirt. He grabbed one of his wrists self-consciously once he had lost his shield of clothing. “I know I’m not much to look at…”

“Stop that,” Derek ordered.

“Sir, yes sir!” Stiles replied glibly, mock saluting and earning an unimpressed look from Derek. “I just mean, I don’t have magic abs.”

“Stiles, you have perfectly nice abs,” Lydia assured him. “Come on, we’re the experts here, right?”

“Right,” he replied sheepishly, allowing them to guide himself onto the bed. “But I’m feeling a little exposed over here.” Smirking, Derek whipped off his shirt in one fluid motion, revealing his impeccable body. Even Lydia was starting to feel self-conscious next to that. But it was hard to focus on insecurity when Derek pulled her towards him into an unexpected kiss, his hands reaching around her back to find the zipper for her dress. She couldn’t help but smile into the kiss.

“How come I’m the one losing the most clothing?” she asked in mock indignation as her dress slid down her body before collecting on the floor in a crumpled heap.

“You don’t have a boner to hide,” Stiles offered.

“Yes, because your pants are doing such a wonderful job of doing that,” she replied dryly with a smirk, only feeling slightly guilty when Stiles instinctively tried to shield his crotch from sight, which of course drew more attention to it. “It’s not bad thing, you know.”

“It’s kinda why we’re here,” Derek added in his dry tone usually reserved for bursts of witty one liners.

Stiles wiggled his hips almost obscenely. “Well, why don’t you take ‘em off, then?”

“Gladly,” Derek replied, grinning as he deposited his own jeans and scrambled up onto the bed, with Lydia right behind him. Together, they undid the zipper and button, Derek tugging the material down while Lydia guided Stiles’ hips up to facilitate the movement. Stiles swallowed thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing along his throat as he shivered slightly at the cool arm that enveloped his skin. Derek slid his hand to trace along the waistband of Stiles’ underwear; Stiles’ breath hitched audibly. “I’m going to suck you off now,” Derek announced as if he was saying he was going to the store for milk. “Okay?’ he asked, eyebrow cocked up. Stiles nodded vigorously, his own hands scrambling along his side to push down the undergarment. Chuckling, Derek pulled them down the rest of the way, tossing them across the room haphazardly. Lydia’s eyes were glued to his mouth as he sank lower, lips barely brushing the tip of Stiles’ flushed cock. Stiles’ breathing was already ragged, his head practically thrashing from side to side, a loud moan echoing through the room as Derek sank incrementally lower and his toes began to curl. Lydia shifted so that she was face to face with Stiles, guiding him towards her with one hand, her kiss a distraction from Derek’s ministrations. She peeked, glancing down at where his head was bobbing up and down, meeting his twisting fist, and had to look away quickly; between that visual and the sounds still emanating out of Stiles, it was almost too much.

Suddenly, Lydia felt a warm, firm hand cup her ass before trailing softly toward the inside of her thighs. Derek’s gentle fingers pushed aside the thin strip of a barrier her underwear provided, prodding gently at her opening, almost as if he was waiting for permission to enter. Lydia’s hips bucked forward, driving him inside her, filling her with a pleasant warm firmness as her clitoris grazed against his hand, sending a jolt of electricity through her body, causing her to gasp. She chanced another look; Derek was still going to town on Stiles’ dick, and that combined with the sudden brush of his thumb over her swollen nub caused Lydia to tense up, coming without warning. She swore that Derek smirked, or at least tried to the best he could with a mouth full of cock, but Stiles seemed oblivious. With her own pleasure sated, the coiled tension dissipating at least temporarily, Lydia returned her focus to Stiles.

“Wait,” she muttered, tugging on Derek’s hair to get him to pull off.

“Why stop?” Stiles mumbled in confusion, looking like a wounded puppy.

In answer, Lydia scooted back down towards his pelvis, licking a stripe up the underside of his cock. “What? I can’t let Derek have all the fun.” she explained, smirking. Derek leaned back down nudging her head away, trying to reclaim his territory, but Lydia refused to give in. She rose up towards the head, where Derek was currently licking away, eliciting some interesting new sounds from Stiles. Lydia pressed her mouth forward, capturing Derek’s lips in a kiss, Stiles’ cock stuck in between.

“Oh god, I’m not gonna last much longer,” Stiles gasped as Derek got the idea, kissing her around the head. “Guys, you might wanna...I’m gonna, oh shit,” he mumbled. “Oh god.” His whole body tensed underneath them as he started to come, his semen gushing over their lips, dribbling onto their cheeks. Lydia had never really been into that; some of the few random losers she slept with had done that, and it had always felt like a form of degradation. But here, with Stiles boneless above them and Derek looking blissed out with come sliding and catching in his beard, it couldn’t help but feel perfect. “Oh god, you’re a mess,” Stiles moaned in a much less sexy way, sounding embarrassed.

“S’okay,” Derek murmured, looking up at him with lidded eyes. “Smell like yours.”

Stiles grinned bashfully and much more coy than someone with a saliva slick softening dick resting on their leg should. “You are,” he confirmed with an excited look at both of them before looking alarmed. “Um, do you guys need anything?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows in what could only be an implication of sexual favors.

“I’m alright,” Lydia replied. “This one took care of that,” she admitted, shoving Derek playfully on the shoulder. “Maybe next time.”

“Derek?” Stiles asked, an eyebrow arched.

“I, um,” Derek muttered, flushing the slightest bit red. “You make really nice sounds when you come,” he confessed.

“Thanks?” Stiles replied, looking confused but impressed. “We should probably get washed up, I’m feeling a bit sticky and while it’s incredibly hot to see you covered in my come, I can’t imagine it’s an entirely pleasant feeling.” He was right; it was already starting to cake uncomfortably on Lydia’s skin. After they washed up, the three piled back into the bed, craving cuddles in the aftermath of their emotional and physical journey. They were just being lulled into a lazy sleep when the Star Wars theme started blaring loudly from Stiles’ pants. “Shit,” he muttered, scrambling out of their embrace. “That’s my dad.” Still naked, Stiles left the room to take the phone call.

Derek ran his hand up and down Lydia’s back in what should have been a soothing manner, but something was off. Lydia felt a buzzing like she’d never felt before; at first she chalked it up to a pleasant orgasmic experience but it had been too long for that to make sense. Quickly, the feeling intensified, making her head spin, causing her to feel nauseous. She pressed at Derek’s chest, forcing him away to give her some space to breathe; it felt like the room was closing in on her. She opened her mouth to call out to Derek when an unearthly yet now unfortunately familiar scream streamed from her lips, her mouth growing hoarse with the force of cry. As she came back into herself, shaking, she noticed that Stiles had returned, the phone still held to his ear as he looked at her in searching concern. She sagged against Derek, but not before catching a stricken look in his eye. “Lydia, what happened?” he asked urgently.

“They’re in trouble,” she gasped, Scott, Allison, and Kira’s faces dancing before her eyes. “And I’m pretty sure someone just died.”


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for graphic violence, minor character death.

Kira looked around, eyes wide, as she, Scott and Allison entered Allison’s basement. “You weren’t kidding when you said you had an arsenal down here,” she muttered in disbelief. “Wow. You know how to use this stuff?”

Allison smirked, picking up a bow sans arrow and pretended to shoot. “Wanna learn?”

“Maybe?” Kira asked, scrunching up her face in confusion. “I’ve always been more comfortable with my katana...no reloading.”

“That’s why I like these,” Scott added, flicking his hands to release his claws, which he wiggled slightly. Allison rolled her eyes, shoving him in the shoulder as she passed him in order to reach a cabinet on the other side of the room.

“Some of us aren’t so fortunate to have built in weapons systems,” Allison replied dryly, pulling out a long, shallow box made of some kind of dark wood. “That’s why we have these.” She pulled out a brilliantly shiny silver sword with an ornately carved handle and what looked like perfect balance from the easy way Allison held the implement.

“May I?” Kira asked in awe. Nodding, Allison placed it in her in two outstretched palms. The metal felt cool in Kira’s hands; it almost hummed with its own energy. She swung it left and right, up and down to get a feel for the blade; it wasn’t quite like her katana, which felt like an extension of her very being, but it was very well made and would be a welcome asset in a fight. “I might be a lot jealous right now.”

“Maybe you can teach me a few of your tricks and I’ll show you some of mine,” Allison replied; Kira was pretty sure she was flirting. She was still having trouble coming to terms with the fact that this was real, that their relationship was real. It all felt like one never-ending dream. She gently placed the sword back in its case.

“Sure,” she replied, her voice coming out embarrassingly high.

“What about me?” Scott asked, a look of fake hurt washing over his face.

“I thought you were covered,” Allison replied sweetly, almost batting her eyes at him teasingly.

Scott shrugged. “Can’t hurt to learn from the best.”

Allison looked impressed. “Nice save, McCall.” She proceeded to give Kira a tour of the rest of the space, pointing out any weapons of interest. As they passed a sort of workbench, a glimmer of metal in a small box caught Kira’s eye.

“What’s that?” she asked before her mind registered that the bits of metal were actually three rings. Three. Rings. Oh shit.

Allison looked a little flustered, not looking at her or Scott. “I didn’t mean to be presumptuous or anything, but I made them in my free time. For us. If you want.”

“Wow,” Kira mumbled, shocked but pleasantly surprised, a warm sensation spreading through her belly. “You made those?”

“Yeah,” Allison replied, shrugging, but looking pleased with herself.

“Can we see them?” Kira asked daringly. She had already crossed the line, might as well go all the way. Plus, once Kira had expressed an interest, Allison seemed to relax. Scott’s silence wasn’t surprising; it’s not like he and Allison hadn’t been ringed before.

“Sure,” Allison said, scooping up the bands and carefully placing them in Kira’s palm. They were intricately designed, as if Allison had braided many strands of molten metal. It was amazing.

Kira looked up at the both of them. “So, um, we haven’t really talked about this.”

“How do you feel?” Scott asked seriously.

Kira hesitated, uncertain as to what answer they were hoping to hear. But deep down she knew that the answer they wanted was the truth, whatever that may be. “It feels right,” she whispered quietly, returning their gaze shyly. She needn’t have worried. The moment the words left her mouth, both Scott and Allison lit up like Christmas trees, moving in for a hug, careful of the rings clutched in her hand. “So, uh, how do we do this?” she asked as they pulled back. “I mean, I’ve seen the movies and all that but I’ve never done it in real life and I just don’t want to screw this up by following all the dumb stuff I see on the screen-”

“Kira,” Scott interrupted, fighting an amused smile. “Don’t worry about it. Give me your right hand.” Heat radiated from his touch, a comforting feeling that screamed home. He picked up one of the skinnier rings and slid it onto her ring finger. “Now you put the other one on Allison and she puts the last one on me,” he explained before they quickly carried out the ritual. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” he asked, smiling out of the corner of his mouth.

Kira was about to reply when something purple exploded above their heads. “Scott, hold your breath!” Allison cried, shoving him away from the falling powdery substance. It was a little too late; Scott was already gasping for breath, shuddering with the effort.

A ping sound startled Kira out her focus on Scott. She looked up in time to see another bullet woosh by and lodge itself in the cabinets behind them. Allison looked up, noticing it too, guiding Scott behind a table for some semblance of safety. Kira knew that realistically she should join them; what could she do against the gun wielding intruder making his way towards them? But instinctively, she reached for the sword still left out on the table in the open box before assuming a fighting stance. Her arms flew as the blade swooshed through the air, deflecting the bullets. Once she got close enough, Kira aimed the blade at the gun, managing to get it dislodged from the attacker’s grip, sailing across the room. But the assailant seemed to lose balance from the maneuver, falling chest first on the sword. Sagging forward, his body grew limp and the life drained from his eyes. Kira let go of the hilt as if it suddenly burned her, walking backwards as she trembled uncontrollably. The clink of the sword hitting the ground was muffled slightly by a sickening thud. “Oh god,” she moaned, unable to tear her eyes away from the crumpled body pooling red before her, the body that she created. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

Allison wrapped an arm around her soothingly from behind. “We should call my dad.”

“Sheriff,” Scott managed to choke out.

Allison made a face. “They’re probably together anyways.” She hauled him to his feet with her free arm. “Come on, let’s get you upstairs and get the wolfsbane out of your system.” And get away from the body. Once they climbed the staircase and sent Scott outside to get fresh air and to check the perimeter, Allison pulled Kira aside. “You did the right thing. You didn’t have a choice. It was us or him; he wasn’t going to stop until all of us were dead.”

“I know,” Kira replied, not sounding all that convinced. “Excuse me,” she gasped, another wave of nausea flaring up, darting down the hall to find the nearest bathroom with Allison in tow right behind her.

* * *

Stiles gripped the wheel of the Jeep nervously, driving as fast as he felt he could get away with towards Allison’s house. That had been the most specific Lydia had been able to get other than that their friends were in mortal peril. Or might already be dead. His stomach turned at the thought; sure things had been rough with him and Scott lately but if anything had happened to him...he couldn’t even begin to think about that possibility. It was like having his heart ripped out of his chest while it was still beating. Wasn’t gonna happen.

He glanced in the rearview mirror where Derek was wrapped around Lydia in the back seat. She stared dully out into the distance, eyes wide and haunting. Stiles didn’t envy her skills, thankful in that moment that throughout their many adventures he had remained blessedly human. They finally turned the corner to pull onto Allison’s street. Stiles’ stomach sank as he saw the street lined with cruisers. “This doesn’t mean anything,” he spoke aloud, trying to convince himself more than anyone else.

Derek rolled down his window, tilting his head towards the opening. “I can hear them,” he reported. Relief flooded through Stiles, letting him sink into the seat of the car. “There’s too much going on to make out what’s being said but I can sense Scott and he’s not...he’d be more upset if something happened to the others.”

“Thank god,” Lydia sighed from beside him. “Then who died?”

“Only one way to find out,” Stiles returned grimly, opening the door of the Jeep and practically hopping out.

“I don’t think you can just waltz into a crime scene,” Derek informed him dryly and he and Lydia followed him out of the vehicle.

“Perk of being the sheriff’s kid,” Stiles replied, walking ahead determinedly. He had barely reached the cruisers when Deputy Parrish stood in his way. “Hey, Jordan, long time no see!” he greeted as jovially as he could muster under the circumstances.

“Stiles, you’ve gotta leave. Your friends too,” Parrish instructed, arms crossed over his chest. “We’re dealing with a home invasion here.”

He tried not to let the news shake him. “See, it was my friend’s house that got invaded. I need to make sure they’re okay. I need to see my dad, come on, man…”

Never taking his eyes off Stiles, Parrish picked up his radio and held it up to his mouth. “Sheriff? We’ve got a SS-911 out here. How do you want me to proceed?” Stiles knew he should feel kind of insulted for having his own radio code, but he was too proud about it to be mad.

“Let ‘em through,” his father’s crackly voice came back over the radio. “All of them. I was expecting this. Thanks, Parrish.”

“Fine,” Parrish replied, looking seriously at Stiles. “Stay out of trouble, you hear?”

“Me? Get into trouble?” Stiles asked in mock indignation. Parrish, in spite of his best efforts to maintain his composure, couldn’t help but smile at his antics. Glancing back to Derek and Lydia a few steps behind him, Stiles gestured for them to follow.

As they approached, his father emerged from the Argent’s house, looking grim. “Dad, what’s going on?” Stiles demanded, unnerved by the look on his father’s face. That was never a good sign.

“Your friend Kira’s pretty good with a sword,” he replied. “Someone broke in and started shooting. Somehow she got him.”

“Captured?” Lydia asked.

“He literally fell on her sword,” he informed them. “Her parents are coming by shortly to get her, she’s understandably shaken up.”

“And Scott?” Derek questioned.

“And Allison?” Lydia added.

“Both fine. I guess there was wolfsbane involved but Scott’s okay.”

Lydia stepped forward. “Sheriff, I need to see him. The intruder.”

His father hesitated, eyes sizing her up. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”

“Dad, it’s a banshee thing,” Stiles explained.

His father sighed heavily, clearly not pleased with the situation. “Fine. I don’t like it but fine. I’m going down with you, though. And you two stay put.”

“But Dad!” Stiles protested.

“It already looks bad enough bringing one teenager to the crime scene let alone three. Or two. Sorry,” he winced at Derek, who waved it off.

“Thank you,” Derek spoke over Stiles’ protests. “Can we see Scott?”

His father nodded. “Sure. Follow me.” He led them through the Argent’s house into the living room, where a distraught Kira was nestled between Scott and Allison, wrapped protectively in their arms. His father knelt down in front of them. “Kira? Your parents will be here to take you home any minute,” he informed her soothingly. Stiles noticed that she was nervously twisting a silver band around her finger. Scott and Allison were also wearing bands they hadn’t been that morning. Interesting, Stiles thought as he began to absentmindedly fiddle with his own newly acquired piece of jewelry. “Is there anything you need?”

Kira smiled weakly. “Do you have a time machine?” she asked halfheartedly.

His dad chuckled. “Unfortunately I think that’s the one ridiculous thing this town doesn’t have. Look, I know what it feels like when something like this happens in the line of duty. But judging from the bullet holes down there...you’re lucky that you’re all physically in one piece.”

“Sheriff, the Yukimuras are here for their daughter,” Parrish’s voice crackled over his radio.

“I’ll bring her out,” his dad replied. “Ready to go?”

Nodding, Kira started to stand before being pulled into a hug by her partners. Stiles averted his eyes, feeling like he was intruding on a personal moment. He waited until his father had escorted Kira outside before he turned his attention back towards his friends. “You okay?”

Scott exhaled with a shuddery breath, Allison rubbing his back soothingly. “Not our best day,” he replied ruefully. “Whoever it was knew what they were up against. They got wolfsbane into the air, I was useless,” he spat bitterly.

“How are you feeling now?” Derek asked urgently, his face laced with concern. “Any lasting effects?”

Scott shook his head. “Little trouble breathing here and there but it’s clearing up.”

Stiles fumbled around in his pocket before pulling out his inhaler and tossing it over to Scott. “Might help,” he explained.

“Thanks,” Scott replied, inhaling a puff of the medicine.

“How did you know something was going on?” Allison asked, looking up at them.

“Dead body? I’ll give you three guesses,” Lydia replied dryly before her face fell softly. “It wasn’t very specific, you know this whole thing isn’t an exact science. I thought…never mind, it doesn’t matter now. Everyone’s safe.” Stiles slipped his hand in hers, squeezing tightly, her hand fluttering around his. “When the Sheriff gets back I’m going to see the body, see if I can figure anything out.”

Allison’s face grew grim. “You really don’t need to see that,” she informed her, voice cracking. “There’s a reason I prefer arrows. Cleaner.”

“Assassins don’t just casually drop in and start shooting. This guy must have been working for someone. And I for one would like to know who it is before they try to kill all of my friends,” Lydia replied determinedly. Stiles hated to admit it, but she had a point. As much as he wished that Lydia didn’t have to subject herself to what he could only imagine would be a horrible sight, they had to get to the bottom of this. Experience had taught them that they couldn’t take anything for granted.

* * *

Lydia took a deep breath as she stood next to the Sheriff at the top of the basement stairs. “You sure you want to do this?” he asked for the fifth time.

“I’m sure,” she replied tersely, trying to project a confidence that she just wasn’t feeling. Sighing heavily, the Sheriff lifted the yellow tape to let her under, following close behind. As she carefully descended, Lydia stretched out with every part of her being, trying to stay open in order to capture any sounds. So far, nothing. It was times like these where she wished she actually knew how her powers worked. They slowly approached a black body bag next to a pool of drying blood, the smell of death assaulting her nostrils. One would think that she would have gotten used to it by now. Lydia forced herself to walk over towards the corpse, a slight buzzing slowly building in her ears. Carefully, she unzipped the black plastic, revealing a pallid face. She couldn’t help but stare at it as the sound in her ears increased in volume, a haze surrounding her head. Suddenly she was being shaken, as if out of a nightmare, by the Sheriff, who had her by the shoulders. Somehow she was clear across the other side of the room next to a set of stone cabinets set right into the wall.

“Okay, that’s it. That’s enough, I’m sorry but you gotta leave.”

“What happened?” Lydia asked, dazed.

“I don’t know,” the Sheriff replied truthfully. “But you went into some kinda trancelike state and it was freaky.”

She smiled at him exasperatedly. “That’s kinda how this thing works.”

The Sheriff shook his head. “You were going into a fit, something was wrong. I was worried you were having a seizure or something. And Stiles would kill me if I let anything happen to you. Come on, this place isn’t good for any of us. You’re not gonna get anything else from here.”

“You’re probably right,” she sighed, following him up the stairs in spite of the nagging suspicion that she was missing some crucial piece of information.

Stiles stood immediately as she returned to the room, Derek looking at her worriedly from his position on the couch. “Did you get anything?”

“I...I don’t know,” Lydia replied truthfully. “Nothing that made sense anyway.”

“It was worth a shot,” Scott chimed in. “We’ll figure it out eventually.”

* * *

Derek sighed heavily as he finally returned to his loft late that night. After they left the Argents, the group retreated to Scott’s house, a logical choice since three of them lived there. It was a somber evening, but having everyone together really helped. Lydia was especially quiet; something had unnerved her at the scene but she either wouldn’t or couldn’t say anything. Derek took care to wrap his arms a little more tightly around her, snuggling his face in the crook of her neck, trying to project a feeling of comfort. He hoped that he helped.

“Where’ve you been?” a familiar voice called out from the darkness, startling Derek. That in itself was unsettling; he shouldn’t have been so wrapped up in his thoughts that he couldn’t have sensed that something wasn’t right.

“Peter, you’ve got to stop sneaking in like this,” Derek berated his uncle grumpily, flicking on the lights a little more aggressively than strictly necessary. He really needed to think seriously about changing the locks; what if Peter popped in for one of his visits while Stiles and Lydia were around? No, he was not about to let that happen. “What do you want?” he asked tiredly, just wanting Peter to be gone.

“Just wanted to see how you were. I heard about what happened at the Argent’s on the news. Figured you’d be playing nursemaid for Scott and his pack.” Derek bristled, not just at the insult to Scott but to the insinuation that Derek wasn’t truly a part of the pack. He was, he assured himself, even if the fact he was an alpha complicated matters.

“I’m fine, just tired.” Derek replied tersely. “Can you please just go?”

Peter pushed himself up before strolling to the door. “Glad your friends are okay,” he replied, his voice tinged with insincerity he was clearly trying to conceal. “It would have been a shame if something bad had happened to them.” With that, he exited the loft, leaving Derek confused and concerned.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for nausea (no vomiting) and discussion of graphic violence.

Melissa groaned as she steadied herself, clutching at the back of the sofa and closing her eyes as the room spun, her stomach lurching unsteadily. Suddenly Chris was behind her, his hand on her shoulder soothingly. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine,” Melissa managed to get out, trying to breathe evenly and calm her stomach.

“Really,” Chris replied skeptically, gripping her shoulders and directing her to the sofa. “Come on, sit.”

“I need to go to work,” Melissa protested weakly, even if the prospect seemed less than ideal with her current state.

Chris raised his eyebrow as he helped her get settled in. “I don’t think you’ll be much help to sick people if you are sick too.”

“I’m not-” she began before Chris cut her off.

“You looked like you were going to pass out for a moment there and you look kind of gray.”

“Fine,” Melissa sighed. “Give me my phone.” Chris reached over and plucked it out of her purse (that was still in her hand?) She was feeling a little disoriented. A sick day was probably a good idea. Her husband swiped through a few screens before handing it to her, ready to dial. “Thanks.” Pressing the call button, she rested her head in her hand, the ringing on the line hurting her brain.

“Hey Melissa,” Steve, her shift supervisor greeted. “What’s up?”

“I’m so sorry for the short notice but I think I picked up a bug or something. It came on kind of quick this morning. Hopefully it’s just some twenty-four hour thing.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Steve replied. “Feel better and try to stay hydrated!”

Melissa smiled fondly. “Trust me, I know.”

“Sorry, it’s habit.” After Steve gave her additional instructions to rest, Melissa finally hung up. She blindly put the phone down on the couch next to her before looking up at Chris, who reentered the room after giving her a bit of privacy for the phone call.

“Here,” he instructed, giving her a small glass of bubbly ginger ale and some saltines. “Hopefully these’ll help.”

“You are a godsend,” Melissa gushed gratefully, shipping the drink carefully, wincing as the bubbles stung her throat. “I don’t know what happened, I hope I don’t give this to the two of you.”

“We’ll be fine,” Chris assured her. “You just rest up. How about you lie down here and I can put the television on if you want.”

“You don’t have to do all of this,” Mellissa muttered as she slowly shifted to reposition herself on the couch.

“I know,” Chris reassured her. “But I want to. You don’t have to do everything by yourself you know. You’ve got us now.”

Melissa smiled weakly. “I guess you’re right.” She snuggled into the cushions, pulling one of the pillows to prop against the armrest and under her head. “Old habits die hard, I suppose.”

“I guess there’s a first time for everything,” Chris quipped as he picked up the afghan that was draped over one of the chairs and carefully covered her body with it. The wastebasket suddenly came into view as he moved it within reaching distance, just in case. “I’ll be right here if you need anything,” he informed her before Melissa felt the warm press of his lips against her forehead. Her stomach fluttered in a way that was entirely unrelated to nausea. It was nice to feel taken care of again. It was just another one of those things that she hadn’t realized quite how much she had missed until they were back in her life.

Melissa felt her eyes grow heavy, and for once decided not to fight her fatigue. Sometime later, she blinked as her mind came into awareness. She grimaced as she shifted on the couch; they really needed to replace it. Maybe one of her husbands had something newer they could use instead. Furniture induced backaches aside, the nausea and disorientation from earlier seemed to have receded, leaving her feeling like she had never been ill. Melissa glanced across the room to see Chris marking his place in a book when he noticed that she had awoken.

“How you feel?” he asked as he stood and closed the gap between them.

“Better,” she replied. “A lot, actually.”

“Hmm,” Chris mused with a frown. “You should still probably take it easy, just in case. Would you like some tea?”

“That’s sounds wonderful,” she sighed in reply, his question suddenly inspiring awareness of her parched throat. Within a matter of minutes, he was returning with a warm mug, handing it to her gently. “Thanks,” she replied, blowing on the liquid and causing the rising steam to dance into oblivion in little ghostly currents.

“Drink it slow,” Chris instructed, sitting next to her with his own mug.

“Yes, Mom,” she teased. The barb earned her a glare, but it lacked the sort of heat she knew the look could hold when Chris was truely antagonized. “But actually, though. You’re real good at this. The whole taking care of people thing. I’m sure you must have been great when Allison was little. Not that you’re not great with her now, I just meant…”

“I know,” Chris replied, smiling sadly before letting a heavy sigh rip through his chest. “I’m not sure I’d agree with you there. I was gone a lot when she was a kid. I was the heir apparent to our family business and Gerard was grooming me. We traveled a lot. It wasn’t until Elaine passed that I made a point to be home, and then home moved with us. And then after Vicki died...I think Allison took better care of me than the other way around. I’m not the best father, especially when it comes to feelings.”

Melissa raised her eyebrows as she slowly sipped her tea. “For the record, I think Allison would call that complete bull. You’re a good father, Chris. I’ve seen it. No parent is perfect; the best we can do is try to make the right choices and love our kids through it all.”

“If I wasn’t concerned about germs I’d kiss you right now,” Chris informed her, an almost dopey look of happiness on his face.

Melissa grinned. “Raincheck.” A sharp knock cut through their conversation, drawing their attention to the door. “You expecting anyone?”

“No,” Chris responded, his face losing all of the playfulness of the last few seconds, his features schooled into his business expression as he fingered the gun on his belt.

“I don’t think you’re gonna need that,” Melissa informed him dryly as he made his way over to discover the identity of their mystery caller.

“This town, you never know.” He had a point.

Craning her neck, Melissa’s gaze followed Chris as he opened the door to reveal a relatively young woman. Her dark brown hair sat atop her head in a tightly twisted bun, her thick black rimmed glasses completing the look of strict librarian. She wore a gray pantsuit with a hint of pink peeking out at the base of her neck, accessorized by an official looking clipboard. “Mr. Argent, I presume?” she asked, clicking a pen as she spoke.

“Who wants to know?” Chris asked gruffly, staying aloof as he crossed his arms across his chest in what Melissa could only assume was meant as intimidation.

“Inspector Maggie Mortimer, I’m with the Office of Marriage Verification.” Melissa froze, her heart hammering in her chest wildly, a sick feeling completely unrelated to her earlier discomfort turning her stomach. Sure, things had actually progressed in her relationship with her husbands; there was no denying that they shared a real bond. But they had entered into their marriage under false pretenses…it wasn’t as if this wasn’t expected, she had just thought that Rafe would have moved a little quicker. By now she thought that he had come to terms with it, moving on and leaving her alone. They hadn’t heard a peep from him in weeks. Perhaps he was trying to lull them into a false sense of security. It had worked. She should have known better; he hated to lose. “I’m here for a home check.”

“This really isn’t the best time,” Chris replied coolly. “My wife is feeling a little under the weather today.”

“I’m fine,” Melissa insisted, pushing herself off the couch and only swaying slightly. “I’m feeling better after that nap.” She didn’t want to give the inspector any reason to be suspicious. “So, what can we do for you?” Melissa asked as she walked over to join Chris, wrapping an arm around him for support, leaning into him as he pulled her into a close embrace.

Inspector Mortimer looked at them calculatingly before jotting something down on her clipboard. “I just need to ask you a few questions, look around, make sure that everything is in order. Is Sheriff Stilinski home?”

“He’s on duty, probably at the station,” Melissa replied. “I was supposed to be at work too but I thought I had a stomach bug.”

The inspector frowned thoughtfully, her expression almost curious rather than accusatory. “Is there any chance that it could be morning sickness?” she asked casually.

Melissa snorted at the absurdity of the idea; she had a grown son for crying out loud, she couldn’t be pregnant. Especially since they had been using protection. But the more she thought about it she realized that she _was_ a little late. That didn’t mean anything, though; she wasn’t very regular to begin with. “Chris, can you get me my phone?” she asked, her voice coming out strangled as she blinked like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Of course, Mel,” he murmured, kissing her softly on the cheek before leaving her to fetch the device.

“You seem surprised,” Inspector Mortimer observed.

Melissa grinned wryly. “Yeah, you’d think by now I’d know about the birds and the bees.” Inspector Mortimer looked back at her blankly. Melissa forced a smile to stay on her face as she tried desperately to ignore how awkward the entire situation felt. Chris returned bearing the phone, handing it to Melissa who quickly pulled up her calendar. Oh. She was even later than she had realized. “I mean, I’ll have to take a test, but that’s a distinct possibility. Wow, the thought didn’t even cross my mind this morning…” She couldn’t help but notice how the inspector was scribbling down notes, and Melissa hated the fact that she felt like a lab rat.

“It’ll be okay,” Chris assured her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder reassuringly.

“But I’m _old,_ ” Melissa insisted, panic rising in her chest. She couldn’t have another baby, not now. Sure, it was a biological possibility, but still…

“Not that old,” Chris replied, kissing her temple before turning back to the inspector. “So what do you need from us?”

Inspector Mortimer smiled tightly. “I think I’ve gotten everything I need, though if I could take a look around? I’ll be in contact with you to schedule a time when the four of us can all sit down and meet.”

“I’ll lead the way,” Chris replied diplomatically as he pulled away from Melissa. “You stay here,” he instructed, gesturing to the couch.

“I might be maybe-pregnant, I’m not an invalid,” Melissa muttered as she took a seat.

“I know,” Chris replied fondly before leading the inspector on the tour of the house. Sighing, Melissa swiped open her phone to dial the Sheriff.

“Beacon Hills Sheriff’s office, Sheriff Stilinski speaking,” her husband greeted formally.

“Hey, it’s me,” Melissa replied.

“Mel? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she assured him.

“I thought you were supposed to be at work?”

“Called out sick. Um, that’s why I’m calling. I need you to do me a favor.”

“Anything, you name it. Want me to pick up some chicken soup or something…?”

Melissa couldn’t help but smile. “No, that’s okay, Chris has me covered. I need you to get me a pregnancy test.” A pause. “Sher?”

“I must have heard you wrong,” he replied, voice clearly shaky even over the phone line. “You didn’t just say you needed a pregnancy test.”

“‘Fraid so,” she admitted. “You okay?”

“Am I...no I’m not okay!” he snapped back, sounding like he was almost hyperventilating. Clearly Stiles’ panic attacks ran in the family.

“Hey, hey, breathe okay? It might be a false alarm.”

“Or we might have a kid that’s not much older than our eventual grandkids…”

Oh, right. That could happen. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, okay? Besides, it wouldn’t be _that_ bad, would it?”

Another pause, the Sheriff’s breathing coming heavily across the line. “I guess not. Just not quite how I pictured all of this.”

“Tell me about it,” Melissa muttered. “But we’ll make it work.”

“Yeah,” the Sheriff muttered. “We’ll make our family work.”

“Our family,” Melissa repeated, smiling fondly into the receiver.

* * *

Sheriff Stilinski sighed as he hung up the phone, trying not to dwell too much on the bombshell Melissa just dropped. He had a job to do, after all, and there wasn’t anything he could do in the next few hours that would deal with the issue productively. He just had to stay calm, that’s all.

A knock on his door rattled the glass before it swung open to reveal Deputy Parrish. “Sir, the Yukimuras are here to see you. They said you called?”

“Send ‘em in,” he replied. Kira entered first, eyes wide with heavy bags under her eyes from lack of sleep and rimmed red from crying. The poor girl was going to need a heck of a lot of therapy to get through all this. She was accompanied by her mother alone; presumably her father was still at the school teaching. Mrs. Yukimura held herself like a cobra waiting to strike, clearly on guard and ready to protect her daughter. “Thanks for coming in, have a seat.” He gestured towards the chairs with his hand.

“Am I in trouble?” Kira asked breathlessly, her voice tinged with panic and worry.

“Absolutely not,” the Sheriff reassured her.

“Then why are we here, Sheriff?” her mother asked stiffly.

“I just wanted to see how your daughter was doing. And to let you know that there won’t be any charges filed. For one thing, Kira, you were clearly acting in self-defense, no one questions that. But we were given access to the house’s security feed and...you didn’t stab him.” _One plus side to being married to the owner of a crime scene._

“Wait, what?” Kira asked in confusion, looking back and forth between him and her mother.

“The footage shows him literally throwing himself on your sword. I can show it to you if you’d like, but I wouldn’t recommend it…” He was probably going to have nightmares about that footage, and that was saying something.

Kira shook her head. “But he still died because of me.”

“No,” the Sheriff replied firmly. “I have no clue as to why, but that guy was willing to give his life for whatever cause he was a part of. You are not responsible for the actions of some whackjob.”

“I guess,” Kira muttered.

“Thank you, Sheriff,” her mother replied, relaxing a little once the threat of attack had vanished.

“No problem. Would you mind if I had a word with just Kira for a moment?”

Mrs. Yukimura hesitated. “Kira?”

“It’s fine, Mom,” Kira reassured her with a weak smile. Nodding, her mother stood, bidding the Sheriff goodbye as she stepped outside. “What did you want to talk to me about?” she asked, seeming like a mix of curious and terrified.

“I just wanted to see how you really were. Scott and Allison are pretty worried about you, you know.”

Kira sighed heavily, suddenly fascinated by her lap. “I know I should call them, I just don’t know what to say,” she confessed.

“You don’t have to say anything,” the Sheriff reassured her. “Just don’t push them away. Trust me, they’ve faced worse. Besides, avoiding them just lets that bastard win one last victory. And you’re stronger than that.”

“Thanks,” Kira replied softly. “I’ll...I’ll give them a call after school gets out.”

“Good,” the Sheriff replied. “Take care of yourself.”

* * *

“You have a lovely home,” Inspector Mortimer informed them as Chris led her back into the living room where Melissa laid back down on the couch.

“Thank you,” she replied, smiling weakly. Another wave of nausea had hit after she made the phone call, though it was finally subsiding again.

“We’ll be in touch. Have a good day,” the inspector replied, letting Chris escort her out. She was just about to open her mouth to ask Chris how the tour went when he held a finger up to his lips, gesturing for silence. He held up his right hand, palm perpendicular to the floor, then held up two tightly pressed together fingers before turning his hands sideways and making a gesture as if he were about to pinch something shut. He was finger spelling, she realized. B. U. G. Bug. Of course. Chris made a sweeping motion with his hand before gesturing upstairs. Melissa nodded, knowing that he would know how to handle it. If the authorities had tried to eavesdrop on them, they picked the wrong guy to mess with.

After several minutes, Chris returned. “It looks all clear. But we should watch what we say. To the kids. About the pregnancy.” He looked at Melissa pointedly, his hidden meaning clear. Better safe than sorry.

“We’ll have to tell the Sheriff,” she replied. “Not to spill the beans to the kids. He’s picking up a test so we can be sure, but I have a feeling...now that I can put a name to this, it all makes _sense._ ”

“We’ll find out soon enough,” Chris replied, settling down on the couch next to her, stroking her hair softly. “And we’ll get through it. You’ll see.”

* * *

Scott scrambled for his phone the instant he felt it vibrate, the hum loud to his hypersensitive ears. He sighed in relief as the caller ID popped up, scrambling to answer. “Kira! Hi. Um, how are you?” _I’ve been fighting every instinct that’s been telling me to find you and wrap you up in my arms in order to give you the space that you need and we’ve been so worried…_

“I’d be lying if I said okay,” she replied softly, her voice strained. “Can you come over? Both of you? Please?”

“Of course,” Scott replied without a second thought. “We’ll be there as soon as we can, okay?”

“Okay,” Kira replied. “Scott, I’m sor-”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Scott assured her. “Thanks for calling.”

“Bye, Scott.”

“Bye.”

* * *

Allison wrapped her arms a little tighter around Scott as they rode on his bike, turning the corner onto Kira’s street, the action having nothing to do with remaining on the vehicle. She was nervous about their upcoming meeting with Kira; she still felt responsible for everything that had happened in that basement. It was her house after all. Still, this was a start, a step forward. She had to just focus on that. Scott’s solid warmth was reassuring, anchoring her to the moment and dragging her out of the maze that was her mind. “We’re here,” he announced as he killed the motor of the bike, looking back at her over his shoulder. “You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Allison sighed as she dismounted the bike.

Once Scott propped his bike up on its kickstand, he took Allison’s hand before starting down the path to Kira’s front door. Smiling at her one last time, Scott knocked three times on the door with his free hand. It opened almost instantly, revealing a nervous looking Kira standing just over the threshold looking at them cautiously. “You came,” she greeted, sounding shocked for some reason Scott couldn’t understand.

“Of course we did,” Scott replied, looking a little confused even as he gave her his patented lopsided grin.

Making a sound half between a shout of joy and a sob, Kira launched herself in their direction, throwing her arms tightly around both of them. Allison picked up the softest hint of a perfume or residual odor from a body wash...something floral and pleasant and just as reassuring as Scott had been on the bike. She wrapped her arm around Kira too, smiling as her hand brushed up against Scott’s as they held her. “I’m so sorry,” Kira muttered, finally pulling away before practically dragging them inside. “I shouldn’t have avoided you, it’s just…”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Allison assured her. “That’s not an easy thing to go through. Taking a life. Even for the right reasons.”

Kira’s eyes widened. “Have you?”

Allison shrugged, her shoulders suddenly tense and her lips pressed tight. “Casualties happen in battle,” she replied, refusing to elaborate more. Scott could tell her if she wanted to know...it was all she could do to keep those feelings locked away the way her father taught her.

Thankfully, Kira didn’t want to pry, merely reaching out to squeeze Allison’s hand reassuringly before leading them into the living room. “Well, the good news is at least I didn’t kill the guy.”

Scott frowned, matching Allison’s confusion. “Kira, we were there...we saw…”

“I know,” she replied sadly. “But I guess your dad had security cameras or something...it showed the guy falling on the sword. On purpose.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Scott mused. “Why go through all that trouble to just die? What did he have to gain?”

“Unless those were his orders,” Allison surmised. “Something tells me that our friend wasn’t acting alone.” She cast Scott a significant look. “And why not just shoot you with the wolfsbane? They wanted your debilitated, not killed. It wouldn’t be the first time someone has gone after your powers.”

“Someone’s done this before?” Kira asked nervously.

Scott nodded solemnly. “I’m sorry, it wasn’t fair to you to get mixed up in all of this. Either of you,” he added, looking Allison squarely in the eye.

“Hate to break it to you, McCall, but this was a part of my life well before you, even if I didn’t realize it,” Allison quipped.

“Same here,” Kira added. “Kitsune, remember?”

“Right,” Scott muttered, looking a little embarrassed. “I just hate when the people I love get hurt because of me.” Kira’s head snapped up at his words, a strange mix of excitement and terror mixed adorably in her features. Allison decided to divert the conversation in a different direction.

“Sheesh, you’re starting to remind me of Derek,” she muttered, smirking at her partner teasingly.

“I do not,” Scott huffed. “I’m not nearly moody enough,” he insisted.

“Not so much lately,” Allison remarked, reflecting on the marked changes she’d seen in his behavior since he had started seeing Stiles and Lydia. Come to think of it, all three of them seemed much better off. It made her feel a little less guilty about how things ended with Lydia, knowing what opportunities their separation had opened for her.

“True. But you know being like Derek isn’t a bad thing. We do have at least one thing in common; we’ll do anything to protect our friends.” Scott replied seriously. “Kira, I promise, we’re gonna figure out who sent that guy and make sure they don’t do it again.”

Kira smiled weakly. “That’s really sweet, Scott, but there will always be something. You can’t protect everyone from everything.”

“I know,” he sighed heavily. “But we can try.”

* * *

“Did you get it?” Melissa asked anxiously as the Sheriff walked through the front door. He tossed a small cardboard box over in her direction that bounced against her chest before tumbling into her waiting hands.

“That was something I was definitely not expecting to ever have to do again,” he informed her as he shrugged out of his uniform.

“At least now we’ll know, “she replied, looking at the box carefully. The things had changed so much since she’d last used them...it was amazing what technology could do these days. “Here goes nothing,” she muttered as he walked to the bathroom, smiling weakly at Chris as they passed in the hall. She could barely make out what he and Sher were saying to each other once she shut the door, but both men sounded anxious. As she took the test, Melissa worried about the results, wondering which would be worse. On the one hand, a baby was a curveball none of them had anticipated. But on the other…

Shaking her head, Melissa returned to the living room, the plastic stick gingerly held inside a tissue. Both the Sheriff and Chris looked up as soon as she entered the room. “So?” the Sheriff asked urgently.

“Sher, they’ve gotten faster since our first go around with this but they don’t work that quickly,” Melissa reminded him. “But it should only be another minute.”

The Sheriff exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair. Chris glanced at him, smirking. “What’s so funny?”

“You,” Chris replied, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. “The way you’re going on you’d think you were the one possibly carrying a child.” Unconsciously, Melissa placed a hand over the slight bulge below her belly where her uterus rested.

“Sorry,” the Sheriff apologized sheepishly. “I know I’m being ridiculous, but...this is all so sudden.”

“Tell me about it,” Melissa sighed, sitting between them on the couch.

“Sorry, Mel,” the Sheriff replied softly, kissing her on the cheek.

“Don’t sweat it,” she reassured him.

“I just...how can you be so calm about this? Argent I get, he’s got that weird feeling maze…”

“Compartmentalization.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. But I’d think you’d be as freaked as I am.”

Melissa shrugged. “You’re right. I should be. I don’t know, the more I think about it…the idea of having another kid doesn’t scare me. Not if one of you two is the father.” A beep came from her phone. Right. The timer. “It should be ready,” she announced, nervous butterflies suddenly hatching in her stomach. “Alright, the moment of truth…” She brushed the tissue aside to reveal the screen and the plus sign it was sporting.

“What does it say?”

“Positive.”

The Sheriff let out a low whistle next to her, and for all his talk about hiding away his feelings, Chris seemed to be in a state between thrilled and shock. “So, now what?” he asked carefully, trying to keep his emotions from seeping into his speech.

“I need to get a test done at the hospital. And I don’t want the kids to know until afterwards, just in case it’s a false alarm…”

“Of course,” the Sheriff assured her, seeming to have gotten over his initial panic. He gazed at her softly, a smile creeping onto his features as he opened his mouth, hesitating before he spoke. “I really hope it’s not.”

* * *

Scott realized that something was off about his mother when he got home. He didn’t think the others noticed it, but she seemed almost...jumpy. Like she was trying to hide something from him. That was unusual; their relationship had always been an open book. Except when he had been bitten. But if it was anything supernatural, she would have told him, to warn him even if she didn’t want him worrying about her. It had to be something else. He waited until after dinner to ask her about it in private; if something was wrong she probably wouldn’t want to air it in front of the entire family. Once they had finished eating, he jumped up, offering to help her with the dishes, earning a suspicious look from his mother. They washed and dried in silence for the most part, the whole time Scott reaching out with his senses to see if he could pick up what was going on from her emotions but they were all over the place and he couldn’t get a read on them.

“Mom? Is everything okay? Did Dad try to get to you again?” he asked urgently after he put away the last plate.

“This has nothing to do with your father,” his mother assured him, wiping her hands dry on a dishtowel. “Nothing’s going on.” Her heartbeat suddenly accelerated nervously.

“You’re lying.”

His mom scowled. “Werewolf. Damnit.”

“Sorry. Come on, I’m starting to worry.”

“There really isn’t anything wrong,” she assured him, rubbing his shoulder affectionately. “It’s just...I didn’t want to say anything until I had some tests done…”

“You’re not sick, are you?”

“No, I’m not. If you’d let me finish…” She gave him that look he knew so well growing up, full of fondness and a little bit of scolding.

Scott hung his head sheepishly. “Sorry.”

His mother hesitated, looking at him tentatively, as if she didn’t know how he would react to the news. “Scott, I think I might be pregnant.”

Suddenly it all made sense. Her scent was just the tiniest bit off. He hadn’t heard a heartbeat; it was too early for that, but he had sensed something he couldn’t understand before. “You are,” he informed her brokenly, his throat choking up in amazement.

“You can tell?” his mother asked excitedly, eyes wide with hope and awe. Scott momentarily lost the capacity to form words; all he could do was nod and pull her into a tight embrace. “Oh my god,” she whispered in his ear. “It’s all so real now…I can’t believe I’m having a baby. Well, another one. But don’t worry,” she assured him, pinching his cheek as he ducked his head away. “You’ll always be my baby.”

Allison’s father walked in, eyebrow raised in their direction. “I thought we weren’t going to tell the kids until we knew for sure.”

His mom smiled at him with watery eyes. “Scott can feel it,” she whispered, still seeming to be in a state of shock.

“Really?” Argent asked, looking amazed as he shook his head. “I guess I shouldn’t be so surprised. Time to tell the others?”

His mother nodded. “Let’s get this family started.”


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for discussion of emotional abuse. Also there is a time jump of several months, to sometime around March.

Stiles groaned as he shoved the pile of papers across his desk after hours of staring at them until his eyes blurred. It had been months since Scott, Allison, and Kira were attacked at the Argents, and they still weren’t anywhere closer to finding out who sent the assassin. He managed to get some photos of the crime scene rather unwillingly from his father, but so far they had been of little use. There was a mark on his abdomen, a tattoo of bird with a red beak and a black line over scarlet eyes that extended down towards the striped wings and looked like a bandit’s mask. Weeks of searching had finally led them to identifying the bird as a Chukar partridge, which somehow Wikipedia had connected to a historic order of Assassins. Other sources seemed to indicate the bird should be more like an eagle. He couldn’t track down a drawing of the actual symbol, though; unfortunately the Assassin’s Creed logo was the most prominent result of his Google search. The willingness to die rather than abort their mission seemed to fit, but not the apparent self-sacrifice part. Also the guy who had attacked his friends was as white as a sheet of printer paper; if he was using the symbol of this order, he was apparently part of a group appropriating it for their own ends. While it provided an interesting history lesson, it was far from useful to finding anything out about the attacker himself.

“You really need to let this go,” Lydia informed him as she entered the room, leaning over to greet him with a kiss on the cheek.

“Kinda hard when someone out there wants to kill all the people I care about,” Stiles muttered.

Lydia’s eyes flashed momentarily before she restrained herself. “You think I don’t know that? But this,” she gestured to his cluttered assortment of papers and strings and hastily scribbled marker notations, “isn’t getting us anywhere. I think you need to take a step back for a minute to see the bigger picture.”

Sighing, Stiles rubbed his eyes vigorously. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? There is no bigger picture.”

“There’s always a bigger picture,” she reminded him. “Come on, Derek’s waiting in the car. Remember you agreed to go out on a real date with us tonight?”

“Oh, shit,” Stiles groaned, glancing at the clock. “I thought you were early, I’m a mess…”

“You’re fine,” Lydia reassured him. “Put on a clean shirt and brush your teeth and let’s get a move on, okay?”

“Yeah,” Stiles muttered.

“This will be fun,” Lydia promised. But Stiles couldn’t shake the feeling that danger constantly lurked behind their backs.

* * *

Melissa sighed contentedly to herself as she curled up on the couch with a new book and a cup of tea. She had the house entirely to herself, a rarity these days, and she could do with a well-deserved break. In the past, she’d never dare indulge in something quite as frivolous as reading in the middle of the day; between work and keeping the house running, there wasn’t much time for leisure. But now, in spite of the fact that there were three times as many residents in her household, her workload had lifted considerably. Chris was home alone a lot during the day since his work was a bit more sporadic; he kept up with most of the general upkeep and the Sheriff pitched in when his schedule permitted. Plus the kids helped when they could; there hadn’t been too many things trying to kill them lately, so they had more time for chores. Besides, with the baby on the way, they were all a little extra helpful, even if she was perfectly capable of handling things herself.

Thank goodness for her pregnancy. The investigation into their marriage had been dropped practically as soon as she got back from her doctor’s appointment confirming the take home test. The courts generally didn’t want to break up a marriage, even one they were suspicious of, in the best interest of the child. Melissa wondered how many desperate people had children they never wanted just to get the investigators out of the way. The thought made her even more thankful for her increasingly happy marriage.

Things were going well for their little family. They somehow managed to do things together a good portion of the time. But today, Stiles was out on a date, Allison and Scott were also on a date, the Sheriff was on a case and Chris was consulting. There was a roast in the crock pot and no obligations for hours. As much as Melissa loved her new family life, it was nice to get a little peace and quiet for a change.

Unfortunately for Melissa, the universe plotted against her much deserved rest. She barely turned past the first chapter when the doorbell rang. Sighing, she marked her place before maneuvering out of the couch; she was still getting used to the slight protrusion of her belly and the way that it influenced her movements. She really hoped that whoever it was that they weren’t bringing a crisis with them. But then again, this was Beacon Hills.

Still, nothing could have prepared Melissa for the sight greeting her on the other side of the door. It was a woman. The curly red hair that framed her face whipped around her head in the slight breeze. She held a baby in a car carrier in her right hand, her left hand held a duffle bag that matched the knapsack on her back. “Hi,” the woman muttered awkwardly, looking at Melissa like she was bracing herself for an explosion.

“Carrie?” Melissa finally muttered in shock, her emotions suddenly swirling around her head. “What are you doing here?”

Carrie blushed, looking determinedly at her feet. “I’m sorry to just show up unannounced. I just didn’t know where else to go.” She forced herself to look Melissa straight in the eye. “I’m leaving Rafe. I’ve left him,” she corrected vehemently, her eyes growing wet with unshed tears, her voice steeled in determination.

“So the couples life not working out for you after all?” Melissa asked with only the slightest bit of bitterness as she stepped aside to let her ex-wife in.”

“That was his idea, you know,” Carried replied softly. “He has a way of making people do what he wants.” There was a lot of truth to that; Rafe certainly had a way with intimidation.

“Do you want anything to drink? Eat?” Melissa asked, figuring that if she were going to play the role of hostess, she might as well do it right.

“Water would be fine, thanks,” Carried replied, sitting down gingerly on the edge of the sofa, placing the sleeping baby in the carrier on the floor next to her. Melissa quickly returned with glasses for both of them before sitting awkwardly next to her. “Why are you here?” Melissa asked again.

“I don’t know,” Carrie muttered, clasping her hands so tight that her knuckles were turning white. Melissa fought the urge to reach over and take her hand; too much had happened and it was too intimate a gesture to partake in when she was happily married to two men she loved so much. “Partially to apologize. I know I can’t blame all of my behavior on Rafe...I treated you and Scott horribly. But I want to try and make it right.” She shook her head. “He isolated me from everyone I loved. I didn’t even realize what was happening until recently. I had a falling out with my family about two years ago, I thought it was all them. Turns out they were just trying to tell me what I was too blind to see. My whole world was him. And then the baby happened and I just...I panicked. I knew I couldn’t be tied to him for the next eighteen years. I don’t even think I can explain it. Then when he left to come here and get you back...it was the first time we were apart since we left Beacon Hills. I just...I realized how much he had taken over. So I decided that after the baby was born...I’d leave. When he came back for the birth...it felt so oppressive. I just had to get out of there. It’s taken me a little time, but, well, here I am.” She chuckled self-deprecatingly. “You probably think I’m crazy.”

“Not at all,” Melissa replied softly. “I kind of know what you mean. It was...quite a shock when you left. But afterwards...I was able to see our relationship for what it was.”

“I’m sorry for whatever role I played in hurting you,” Carrie assured her earnestly.

“He was using you just as much as he was using me,” Melissa said firmly. “Doesn’t mean I can just act like nothing’s happened, though. Scott took it really hard.”

Carrie’s face fell. “I hate that. I mean, I’m glad Rafe didn’t get a chance to influence him as he got older, but I hate that Scott got caught in the middle of this. How is he? What is he like?”

“Nothing like his father,” Melissa assured her. “He’s a real good kid.”

“I missed him, you know. So much. I wanted to write, but Rafe convinced me that you’d probably just throw the letters out…” She dug into her bag, pulling out a stack of envelopes, tied together with a bit of old twine. “I never sent them, but I never stopped writing. Could you give them to him for me?”

Melissa shook her head. “How about you give them to Scott yourself?”

Carrie looked at her uncertainly. “I don’t think he’d want to see me.”

“No, he might not,” Melissa agreed. “But he deserves to hear this from you. Showing up late is better than never.”

“Right,” Carried mumbled, nodding absently. “Speaking of arriving late, I guess I’m not the only one playing round two with the biological clock, hmm?” she asked, gesturing towards Melissa’s abdomen.

“Yeah,” Melissa muttered. “It’s kind of hard to believe. But it’s so much different this time around...older and wiser and all that. Not to mention...more supportive husbands. Not that you weren’t great when Scott was born, but…”

“Rafe refused to change a diaper?”

“Exactly,” Melissa replied.

Carrie looked at her wistfully. A surge of indescribable feeling rushed through her at the look, the echo of the love that they once shared feeling present in its absence. “You’re happy?” Carrie asked, her voice cracking a little.

Melissa nodded, the warmth filling her chest still a sensation she was getting used to. “Very.”

“I’m glad,” Carrie replied, seeming sincere.

“You will be too,” Melissa assured her. “You’re taking steps in the right direction.”

Just then, the baby began to fuss. Carrie leaned down and scooped her out of the seat, bouncing her up and down a little in her arms. A lump formed in Melissa’s throat at the sight. In part, her baby hormones were taking over, equating the infant in Carrie’s arms with her own future offspring. There was more to her reaction, however, than a chemical surge. In another lifetime, one where their marriage had stayed intact, that baby would have been hers as well; could have been hers if Rafe had gotten his way. Yet here she was, on her living room couch in Carrie’s arms; it was almost surreal. “What’s her name?” Melissa finally asked.

“Melody Sophia,” Carrie replied, meeting Melissa’s eyes again. The initials did not escape Melissa’s notice.

“That’s beautiful,” she replied.

“Do you want to hold her?’ Carrie asked.

“I don’t know…” Melissa hesitated.

“Think of it as a refresher course,” Carrie persuaded, handing the baby girl over. Melissa couldn’t help but grin down at the wide eyed baby; if nothing else, she was Scott’s sister. No matter how complicated things might be...she was family.

* * *

“Are you sure it’s okay if I stay for dinner?” Kira asked anxiously. Scott shook his head in exasperation as he smiled at her, pulling her in for a chaste kiss.

“We’ve been dating for how long? Of course it’s okay,” Scott assured her.

“I don’t think Derek and Lydia come over as often as I do. Not casually anyways.” Scott had noticed that too; though for the most part everyone had gotten over the hurt feelings caused by the split of their relationship with Lydia, there was still a sense of awkwardness that superseded any sort of spontaneous gathering, aside from impending doom of course. He wondered if he should bring it up to Stiles; he did miss spending time with all three of them.

“That’s a different situation entirely,” Allison reminded her, unlocking the door for them. “Besides, I think they like taking advantage of Derek’s nice big parent free apartment,” she added dryly as she stepped across the threshold.

Pulling Kira close into his side, Scott followed Allison inside. “Hey, Mom? We’re home!” he called out before his eyes fell on the mess of curly red hair peeking up from the couch. “Mom?” Not one but two faces turned to look at him. It felt like the air had been punched out of his stomach. _What the hell is she doing here?_ “Did he send you?” he asked bitingly, his face hard and stony. It took everything in him to keep his eyes from flashing red from the sudden tumult of emotions swirling in his chest. He dimly registered Kira wrapping an arm around his back as Allison took his free hand, both trying to ground him. He squeezed back appreciatively.

“Hi Scott,” Carrie greeted nervously, clutching her hands together as she stood to face him.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Scott…” his mother warned.

“No, he didn’t,” Carrie assured him. “He doesn’t even know that I’m in Beacon Hills.”

Scott crossed his arms tightly over his chest, stepping just out of his partners’ reach. “Look, if you’re here to pressure Mom into getting back with the two of you, you can forget it. Not only is she happily married, you lost every right to interfere when you decided you didn’t need a third wheel.”

“Enough,” his mother reprimanded in a tone Scott rarely heard, but it was the kind that used to mean no Stiles.

“Kira, let’s get a snack from the kitchen, okay?” Allison asked a little too loudly, taking her hand and practically dragging her out of the room.

“She’s left him, Scott,” his mother explained.

He felt like he should have been relieved, but instead confusion reigned supreme. “What?”

“I was wrong to leave before, Scott,” Carrie informed him. “He convinced me it was the right thing to do, that it was why things weren’t working out...turns out he was the problem all along. Took me way too long to see through him, but...I’m not going to let him hurt his daughter the way he hurt you.”

The bottom dropped out of Scott’s stomach as he battled between nerves and excitement. “I have a sister?” he asked, in awe in spite of himself. It was one thing in the abstract, it was another watching his mother’s belly grow. But having a living, breathing baby sister...that was on a whole other level. “Can I see her?”

“Of course,” Carrie replied softly, smiling as she bent down to retrieve the child. She was a lot smaller than Scott expected, wearing an adorable onesie with a moon on it. How fitting. “You want to hold her?”

“I don’t want to break her,” Scott mumbled, embarrassed. He’d faced countless foes trying to kill him and here he was feeling kind of afraid of a baby.

“Think of it as practice,” his mother teased, eyes flashing with mirth.

“Right,” he muttered, making his way over to the couch. He figured that there was less damage he could do while sitting, right?

“Hold her like this,” Carrie instructed as she passed the baby. “Support her head.”

Scott could practically feel his lingering hostility and defensiveness melt away as that adorable face beamed up at him, gurgling softly as she grasped the air in his general direction. “Hey baby girl, I’m your big brother.” He looked up at her...their mother. “What’s her name?”

“Melody Sophia.”

Oh. Wow. “I like it.”

Carrie smiled softly, her eyes sad. “I’m really sorry, Scott. If I could take back what these past few years have done to you...I would in a heartbeat. But I can’t. I never stopped loving you, I can promise you that. I, um, wrote you letters. I have them here, you can do with them what you like, but I hope you’ll read them.”

“Thanks,” Scott replied, still reeling with the overload of emotions, unsure quite which direction he was being tugged in.

* * *

“You alright?” Allison asked Kira as she stirred the pasta she was making for dinner. Her partner had been quiet since they had escaped the awkward family drama, helping cut veggies for salad, but otherwise shirking from engagement with her surroundings.

“I’m fine,” Kira assured her too quickly.

“Come on, I know you,” Allison chided, tapping the spoon against the rim of the pot twice before placing it on the counter and wrapping her arms around Kira’s waist. “Talk to me?”

Kira shrugged dismissively, ducking her head to avoid Allison’s gaze. “Scott really doesn’t like the idea of couples, does he?”

“Well, he has good reason, with what happened with his parents. You know about all that.”

Kira shrugged. “I guess. But I think I missed some of the particulars…”

Just then, Scott entered the room. “Sorry about that…”

“Is everything okay?” Allison asked.

“It will be,” Scott replied tiredly. “But I could tell something was up in here.”

“It’s nothing,” Kira muttered too quickly, wincing. Scott just raised his eyebrows at her in response. “You aren’t a fan of couples.”

Frowning, Scott shrugged, walking closer. “I mean, I’ve personally had bad experiences with the whole thing, but I’m starting to realize that it was more about a toxic relationship than anything else.

“Oh,” Kira replied, chopping some peppers absentmindedly. “That’s good I guess. I mean, not good for your mom. Moms? You know what I mean.”

“Yeah,” Scott sighed. “I just…they were the couple-by-choice I’ve ever really known,” he explained. “So…”

“No they’re not,” Kira replied softly, refusing to look up at either of them. She gripped the knife harder to keep her hands from shaking. Probably was not the best idea to be holding a knife just about now, was it. Carefully, she placed it down on the cutting board.

“They aren’t?” Scott asked, clearly confused. Kira took a deep, clarifying breath.

“No. They aren’t. You know my parents.” A deafening silence filled the room. Of course this would come along and screw things up. _But if they care so much, they aren’t worth it_ , her mother’s voice echoed through her ears. This whole thing was just so…blindsiding. Such hostility was the last thing she expected from Scott McCall. “I’m sorry, I’ll go, you probably don’t want to be around a daughter of a couple of freaks,” she muttered, fighting tears that she refused to shed in front of them.

“Hey,” Scott interrupted, catching her gently by the arm, his grip loose enough so that she could easily break free if she wanted to, more of a suggestion to stay than a demand. “Don’t put words in my mouth.” Kira felt his warm hand stroking her cheek, slowly lifting her chin up so they could see each other’s eyes. “You really think that’s what I thought?”

Kira shrugged halfheartedly. “The way you were going on in there...what was I supposed to think?”

“That I love you and I would never-” Scott’s eyes widened as the words came tumbling out of his mouth.

“Did you…?” Kira asked in disbelief. It wasn’t the first time the L-word had come up in conversation. Usually it was in the context of ‘people I love’, which had shocked her the first time, but of course Scott loved her like he loved all his friends. But saying it like this, directly to her…that was new. And scary. And wonderful.

“I think he did,” Allison chimed in, sounding pleased.

“I didn’t mean…” Kira’s stomach plummeted as Scott spoke. “I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. Now, I mean. It was supposed to be special…”

“It’s okay,” Kira assured him, pulling Scott into a quick kiss, almost feeling nauseous from the complete one-eighty the butterflies in her stomach made as they fluttered around in excitement.

“Look, about your parents...I had no idea. You never talked about it and I guess we just assumed that there had been a painful separation or a death…”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Kira replied tiredly. “They try not to draw too much attention to it. It’s caused some trouble in the past...once in fifth grade some kids at school found out and the bullying got so bad that we ended up moving to get away from it.”

“Kira…” Allison said, her voice a mix of concern and outrage.

“People really called them freaks?” Scott asked, incredulous. Kira nodded silently. Scott pressed a soft kiss on her forehead. “I promise you, I don’t okay? Whatever my own experiences...if it works for them, I’m happy for them and you. That we love is more important than how many people we love.”

“Thanks,” Kira sighed, chiding herself internally for ever doubting him. “And they are. Happy.”

“Is it weird for you?” Allison asked. “Being with the both of us?”

Kira shook her head. “No, this feels...right in a way I never thought was possible. But I’m not going to lie, I wondered...I think until we met I never really knew for sure.”

“Well, I for one and glad that we did,” Scott added, kissing her face once again as Allison wrapped an arm around her from the other side, mirroring his motions.

“Me too,” Kira replied, sinking into the blissful pleasure of the embrace. “Me too.”

* * *

“Thanks for coming out with me, Chris,” Sheriff Stilinski sighed as they walked up the front steps of their house. “You were a real help.”

“Anytime,” Chris replied, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. It still surprised him, sometimes; it felt so different being held by a man, but Chris made it feel right. “Perks of dating the sheriff, I suppose?”

“Mh-hm,” Stilinski replied, turning his head to the right to lean into a tender kiss. Another thing he was happily getting used to. “Definitely.”

Grinning, Chris pulled away to open the door, the faintest blush visible on the back of his neck. Stilinski couldn’t help but preen at little at that. “Hey Mel, who’s your friend?” Chris asked as they entered. Stilinski’s eyes followed Chris’ gaze and nearly froze in place. That was not a face he’d ever expected to see again.

“Carrie?” he asked in cautious disbelief. “You have some nerve showing your face around here after what you pulled…”

“Sher, stop,” Melissa chided, giving him a significant look. “It was more complicated than we realized. He was just as bad to her as he was to me. But she’s leaving him. That’s why she’s here.”

“I can go, I don’t want to cause any more trouble than I already have,” Carrie muttered, casting her gaze down at her feet.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Melissa responded. “You’re staying for dinner at the very least and then we’ll figure out where to go from there. Okay?” She looked pointedly in his direction again.

“Sure. Fine. Wonderful,” he replied, trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice, for Melissa’s sake more than anything. She and Scott were the only ones who really had a right to make a call on the matter.

Dinner went more or less smoothly; having Kira around was a nice distraction and she helped keep Carrie occupied. Stilinski wondered if she was doing it deliberately, to keep Scott off the hot seat, filling in for Stiles who was still out on his date and blissfully unaware of any of the recent developments. Still, Stilinski was relieved when the whole ordeal was over. Trying to be welcoming against his better instincts was exhausting. Not to mention the fact that Chris had grown increasingly tense as the meal progressed, and the fact that Chris was concerned worried him. After he helped clear the table, Melissa pulled him aside. “Sher? Can we go upstairs and talk for a minute?”

“Of course,” Stilinski replied, pushing the niggling feelings of nervousness aside. There was nothing to be alarmed about. Everything would be fine. It had to be. “What’s up?” he asked as they entered the bedroom, Melissa shutting the door behind them before settling down on the edge of the bed.

“I have a proposition for you,” Melissa announced.

“If you’re about to say you want to have a foursome with that woman,” Stilinski started, gesturing in the general vicinity of downstairs with his thumb, “the answer is hell no.”

Rolling her eyes, Melissa shook her head. “That’s not what I was going to say.”

“Oh. Good.”

Melissa snorted. “You’re ridiculous. Anyways. You haven’t sold the house yet, right?”

Stilinski nodded. “Yeah, I mean the market hasn’t been great. My realtor suggested maybe renting it out since it’s in pretty good shape.”

“That’s what I thought,” Melissa replied. “What if you rented it to Carrie?”

“You can’t be serious,” Stilinski asked skeptically. Melissa just continued to look at him neutrally. “You are serious.”

“Why not? It’d give her a chance to get on her feet and it would let Scott be close to his sister.” She did have a point there. He’d yet to meet the baby; she was sleeping when he got home. But from the excitement he’d seen in Scott’s eyes when he talked about meeting her...he understood Melissa’s impulse, even if he didn’t entirely agree with the wisdom of it.

“Does she even have any money?”

“Some,” Melissa said. “And she’s looking for work. She’s really serious about making this happen. Life without Rafe.”

“And you’re really okay with all this?” Stilinski asked, finally sitting next to her on the bed.

“If you had asked me that question twenty-four hours ago, I’d have said no way. But now...I guess I can be. It’s hard to hate someone when you know what they’re going through.”

“Are you sure this isn’t all some big plan to get to you?”

“No,” Melissa finally replied reluctantly. “But I don’t think it’s an act. Scott confirmed that she wasn’t lying, about leaving Rafe, at least.”

The Sheriff scratched the back of his neck more to give his hands something to do than anything else. “Okay, if it’s what you really want…”

“It is.”

“Then we’ll make it work.” A knock made both of them jump, their knees knocking together. “Who is it?” he called out.

“Chris,” the muffled voice came through the door.

“You don’t have to knock to come into your own bedroom,” Melissa informed him. Chris looked...off as he entered, still on edge and ready to assume battle position at the drop of a hat.

“I didn’t want to interrupt,” Chris replied curtly. “So, am I being replaced?” he asked stiltedly after a few moments of awkward silence, finally making eye contact.

“What?” Melissa asked, confused.

“Your guest downstairs.”

Melissa finally relaxed. “Oh my god, what is it with you two? I don’t want to get back together with Carrie, okay?” She looked back and forth between Chris’ relieved face and the Sheriff’s. “I’m perfectly happy right where I am, got it? She’s my past. You’re my future.”

Chris smiled awkwardly. “Sorry?”

“Come here you idiot,” Melissa told him, holding out a hand beckoningly. She tugged him down onto the bed, wrapping her arms around both men. “I love you guys, okay? I know how all this started...but this is real.” She shook her head. “You know, it’s funny. Our fake marriage turned out to be more real than my real one was.”

“I’m glad that it worked out that way,” the Sheriff replied, nuzzling into her neck.

“Me too,” Chris agreed, kissing her on the crown of her head. “I shouldn’t have over reacted…”

“It’s a lot to take in, it’s fine. She’s going to be staying at Sher’s...if she says yes, that is.”

Chris raised an eyebrow, craning his neck a little to look at the Sheriff. “You’re okay with it?”

The Sheriff made a face before Melissa nudged him in the side. “I will be.”

* * *

“Thank you so much for this,” Carrie gushed as Sheriff Stilinski unlocked the door to his old home. “I really appreciate it, I promise, as soon as I find a job I’ll get you the rent.”

“Don’t mention it,” Stilinski said with a sigh. “Um, we’ll have to plug the appliances back in, we haven’t lived here in months. Probably have to get some food too.”

“That’s fine,” Carrie assured him before hesitating. “I know this can’t be easy for you.”

“You’re right,” Stilinski replied, setting one of the bags down. “It’s not. I’m doing this for Melissa and Scott. That’s all.”

“I get it.” Carrie replied softly. “I meant what I said, you know. I’m done with him.”

“I sure hope so,” Stilinski replied. “If you hurt the people I love…”

“I get it,” Carrie repeated dryly. “You really love her?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Stilinski sighed, a hint of a smile creeping onto his face. “I really do.”


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for graphic violence.

__

_Stiles started as a bird flittered in front of his vision, his eyes widening at the sight. It looked just like the tattoo that had plagued him for the past few months, right here, right in front of him at arm’s length. He reached out, grasping at the creature with his hands, but its tail feathers tickled him as it escaped his grasp. The bird flitted back and forth, as if taunting him, before diving right into the forest. Stiles feet began to move of their own volition, running, chasing after the bird without having to catch his breath. He thought he lost it a few times, but then he’d catch a flash of feathers and kept going._

_Finally, they came to a clearing. A very familiar looking clearing. The Hale house loomed over him, the bird resting on the remains of the porch. This wasn’t right. The house had been torn down. But here it was, and the bird had been drawn there…_

Stiles sat up straight in his bed, panting for air now that he was conscious. The dream had been so vivid, so real…He knew it probably meant nothing, knew that if he went to Scott his friend would listen but ultimately decide he had been thinking about that tattoo too much and his dream was his mind’s way of processing everything. Stiles glanced over at Scott’s empty bed; he still spent most nights with Allison even though they had patched things up. What he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him, Stiles decided.

And yes, he probably _was_ too fixated on this bird. But a lead was a lead, even if its veracity was questionable. At this point, he’d take what he could get. He wouldn’t be able to rest until he knew for sure the pack was safe. Scott might be the leader, but he was the brains; if he couldn’t figure this out, he’d fail them all.

Quickly, he threw on some shoes before making his way to the window. This particular exit route was a bit more risky, but there was less chance of waking anyone else up and getting talked out of this. Sure, he could be persuasive when called upon to be, but that took a lot more energy and time that he didn’t feel like wasting. Desperately wishing that he could borrow some of Scott’s super strength, Stiles scrambled down the drainpipe, only losing his footing once, thank you very much. Once his two feet were solidly on the ground, Stiles started for his Jeep before realizing that he had left his keys up in his room. Swearing, he debated the merits of trying to get back inside for them, when he realized that the doors would be locked too. And climbing up that drainpipe couldn’t be half as easy as climbing down, and that wasn’t an easy feat. Crap. At least Melissa was on the night shift at the hospital; maybe she could let him in when she got home.

Sighing, Stiles scrounged around in the garage until he found Scott’s old bike. He didn’t use it as much now that he had the motorized one, but it was still in decent shape. It would have to do. Rolling it down the driveway, Stiles mounted the vehicle, wobbling a little bit as his feet started pedaling. He debated cutting through the woods to get to the lot of the former Hale house, but he knew what could be in those woods. Hell, even the roads weren’t that safe. Maybe he should have gotten Scott after all.

It was a miracle that Stiles didn’t crash into something considering the number of times he looked behind him, but finally he wheeled up to the lot which had held a pile of rubble the last time he’d been there. He knew why the house had to go; it was kind of absurd thinking of Derek living in that shell of a structure for all those months, forcing himself to live with what he lost. No, the loft was better. Still...it was strange not to see the familiar sight. He wondered if Derek ever thought of rebuilding.

Stiles shook his head as he carefully set the bike down. He was getting distracted. “Hello?” he called out, hoping that maybe somehow the bird would come out at the sound of his voice. Nothing. It was worth a shot, even a long shot. He didn’t even know what he expected to find, bird or not. It’s not like birds could talk. Unless maybe it was a werebird. Stranger things had happened.

Slowly, he circled the property, eyes peeled for some kind of clue. He frowned as he stepped on something hard; as he picked up his foot to investigate, a metal trap clamped firmly on his leg. Pain seared through his leg as the prongs pierced flesh, stinging in a way unrelated to the metal now jabbing into his leg. Stiles let out a pained shout, doubling over with the rush of sensation. He tried to pry the trap off his leg but to no avail. He was stuck.

* * *

Derek started awake, frowning. He could have sworn he’d heard Stiles…but that was absurd, the McCall house was within his range of hearing, but only if Stiles was shouting at two in the morning. His partner had his quirks, but public disturbance was not one of them. Well, unless something was wrong. A sharp cry pierced the silence once again, sending chills down Derek’s spine. That wasn’t coming from Scott’s house. It was from his own, or what was left of it. Flinging off the covers, Derek quickly pulled clothes on before dashing down the stairs and into the brisk night, keeping his ears open as he rushed through the woods to his old homestead. The trip only took minutes, but it felt like much longer; every so often he heard whimpers, and they seemed to be getting softer. Derek ran faster.

Just as he broke the clearing where the house used to stand, his nose was assaulted by the stench of blood. Stiles’ blood. Oh god. He followed the scent to the other side of the property, where Stiles was crouched down, folded over himself, his bloody leg stuck in some kind of metal contraption. “Stiles!” he shouted, rushing over and cupping his face in his hands. Stiles blinked up at him woozily, giving him a smile that came out more like a wince.

“You found me,” he mumbled, nuzzling into Derek’s touch.

“What the hell were you doing out here?” Derek demanded, rubbing his thumb across his cheek soothingly.

“The bird…” Stiles rambled. “I had a dream…”

Derek chuckled in disbelief. Of course Stiles would take a dream as a clue. Unless...what if someone lured him here with a planted suggestion? It wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility.

A rustling in the trees behind them caught his attention, his body tensing, ready for an attack. Derek turned, anticipating the worst, when he caught a familiar scent. “Scott?” he called out into the darkness.

Scott stumbled out from the brush, looking between him and Stiles in confusion. “What are you doing here?”

“I think the same as you. Rescuing this idiot.”

“You might want to be nicer to your wounded boyfriend,” Stiles muttered.

Scott frowned as he looked at the wound. “Let’s see if we can get this off, okay?”

Stiles shook his head, a sudden alertness coming over him. “There was something on it. Poison. Don’t want it infecting you. What if it’s wolfsbane or something?”

“He’s got a point,” Derek sighed. “Plus he might bleed out if you take that thing off.” He tried not to think about that possibility much. It was too painful.

“We should get him to Deaton,” Scott suggested, bending down and ripping the trap off of the metal chains holding it down. “Can you carry him?”

“Yeah,” Derek answered, scooping Stiles up bridal style, taking care not to let the injured leg dangle too much.

“Mmm,” Stiles mumbled as he buried his head into the crook of his neck. “So romantic.”

Pressing a kiss to the top of Stiles’ head, he followed Scott. “Are we going to walk?”

“He didn’t bring the Jeep. So I did. Just in case. That’s what took me so long,” Scott explained.

Derek raised an eyebrow at him. “Do you even have a license?”

“Dude, this really isn’t the time…”

“Right. But I’m driving.”

“Careful,” Stiles muttered as Scott helped Derek settle him in the back seat of the car. “Don’t get blood on my baby.”

A plastic bag poked out from under the front seat, which he tucked under Stiles’ leg. “There. Happy?”

“Thanks,” Stiles replied softly.

“You’re gonna be fine,” Derek assured him.

“I’ll ride back here with him,” Scott offered. Nodding, Derek climbed into the driver’s seat, and, after a quick scramble over who had the keys, he was off, trying to drive as fast as he could without making the ride any bumpier than it needed to be. Scott called ahead to make sure that Deaton knew they were coming; it wasn’t like he’d just happen to be at his office in the middle of the night. Time passed slowly as they raced to the clinic; Derek’s heart beat loudly in his ears, rushing from the adrenaline and fear of the worst. He just had to focus on getting them to where they needed to be. He pulled into the driveway of the clinic, and, much to his relief, Deaton was out front waiting for them.

“Come on in,” he greeted grimly, frowning as Derek pulled Stiles out and carried him through the door. “Well, isn’t that something. But you should have gone to the hospital, I’m sure-”

“Stiles thinks it was poisoned. He was up where my house used to be, so I’m betting it wasn’t just your run of the mill stuff either,” Derek interrupted.

“I see,” Deaton replied, helping Derek get Stiles onto the exam table. Putting gloves on, he managed to pry open the trap enough for them to get Stiles’ badly injured leg out. “You’re lucky, Stiles. It doesn’t appear to have crushed any bone.”

“Great,” Stiles muttered, wincing in pain. Derek held his hand, sucking a little of it away. Stiles looked up at him, smiling gratefully.

“I’m sorry, this is going to hurt,” Deaton informed Stiles as he prepared some sort of solution.

“As much as getting stuck in a claw trap?” Stiles asked, trying to keep things light and upbeat.

“More,” Deaton replied. Derek held on a little tighter as Deaton cleaned the wound. Stiles was amazing, he barely made a sound, though his grip on Derek’s hand would have broken human bones. “This should at least keep it from becoming infected,” the doctor informed them as he wrapped bandages around the wound. “If there is poison...that’s another matter entirely. I’ll have to run some tests on the trap, see what I can pick up.” As he spoke, Stiles started convulsing on the table. Derek tried to keep a hold on him, but Stiles yanked his hand out of his grip. “Something’s not right. You need to get him to the hospital, now!” Deaton demanded.

Derek scooped Stiles up in his arms once again, holding him tight to keep him from falling. “Hang in there for me, okay?” Derek pleaded softly in Stiles’ ear as they rushed back to the car.

“Der…” Stiles managed to choke out, eyes wide and terrified.

“I’ve got you,” Derek assured him. “I’m not letting you go.”

* * *

Melissa yawned. These night shifts were brutal now that she couldn’t rely on caffeine. Mostly she had managed to work around them, but the hospital had been short staffed, and honestly, they could use the money. Thankfully, so far it had been a slow night. She’d take getting a little bored over people being hurt.

Unfortunately, it seemed like tonight it was not meant to be. The doors burst open and her heart nearly stopped when she saw Derek carrying a limp form in his arms. She breathed a sigh of relief when Scott walked in behind him, but it was short lived when she realized Stiles was the one they were here for. “What happened?” she asked urgently as she met them halfway, bringing a gurney over with her. She noticed a bandage on his leg as Derek laid Stiles down gently.

“He was out in the woods, he got stuck in a claw trap. We brought him to Deaton first, he was okay, but we think there was some kind of poison…he was having some sort of fit, like a seizure or something...” Scott explained, his voice wobbly in spite of his best efforts.

“Deaton’s working to find out what it might be,” Derek added, still holding Stiles’ hand.

“Okay,” Melissa replied, trying her hardest to remain clinical. “Someone will see him right away.” Her coworkers appeared, rushing around Stiles and she quickly filled them in. Melissa pulled Scott into a reassuring hug as they took Stiles away. “We’ll get him patched up for you, alright?”

“Thanks Mom,” he replied tiredly. Melissa returned to the desk; they didn’t want her taking unnecessary risks because of the baby, and an unknown toxin was high on that list. Picking up the receiver of her phone, she punched in the Sheriff’s number, willing him to pick up.

“Hello?” he mumbled sleepily as he picked up after the fourth ring.

“Sher, it’s me.”

“Mel? What’s going on?” he asked, voice suddenly alert.

“Sher, you gotta get down to the hospital right away. Scott and Derek just brought Stiles in.” The Sheriff swore on the other end of the line, and Melissa was pretty sure that she heard Chris in the background.

“What happened?” he demanded frantically.

“I’m not quite sure, but when they found him his leg was injured and the boys think there was some kind of poison involved. He’s being checked out now, Deaton took care of the physical injury apparently.”

“How the hell did this happen?”

“I think you’ll have to ask the boys about that,” she replied dryly.

“Fucking werewolves, always messing up everything,” he muttered.

“Careful,” she warned. “Besides, I get the impression that they didn’t know he was out there.”

“Sorry. Scott, I know,” he sighed. “I’m on my way, alright?”

“See you soon. And Sher? Hang in there. He’s in good hands.”

“I know,” the Sheriff replied. “Thanks for calling.”

* * *

The Sheriff paced back and forth urgently as he waited for news on his son. Of course _his_ son would be the idiot who would go off in the middle of the night by himself to hunt down a clue about the guy who tried to kill his best friends. That came to him in a dream. He shouldn’t be surprised at this point; it was classic Stiles. Always trying to be the hero.

“You’re gonna wear a hole in the floor, Sher,” Chris remarked dryly. He told his husband he didn’t need to come, but he insisted, dragging Allison out of bed (though apparently she had woken up when Scott left to find Stiles).

“Yeah, well, it’s better than doing nothing,” Stilinski muttered, looking up as Melissa returned, looking grim. “What’s the verdict?”

“He’s stable...but it’s not good. They’re still trying to isolate the poison; they’ve given him some blood transfusions but so far no luck.”

Stilinski shut his eyes tightly, refusing the break down here in the middle of everything. “I can’t lose him, Mel,” he whispered hoarsely, his voice coming out small and scared and that terrified him almost as much as anything else.

“Hey,” Melissa added, her voice softer and much closer as warm arms suddenly wrapped around him. “No one’s giving up on him. And between the doctors, Deaton, and our kids...he’ll be alright.”

“You promise?”

“You know I can’t do that,” she informed him sadly. “But we sure as hell will do everything we can.”

He prayed that Melissa was right.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to the hospital to check on Stiles.

Days passed with no change. Physically, Stiles was improving; his wound was even mostly healed. But they couldn’t get the poison out of his system no matter how many transfusions or whatever antidotes he was given. Deaton came up with nothing; by the time he’d gotten to examine the trap any residue had evaporated without a trace, and efforts to isolate the toxin from blood samples proved fruitless. There had been a constant vigil at his side rotating mostly between his father, Lydia, Derek and Scott with Melissa checking in once they had determined that whatever Stiles contracted wasn’t contagious.

Derek held Stiles’ limp hand, focusing on trying to remove the pain that he could. Neither he nor Scott admitted it, but this act of taking his pain was probably the only thing keeping their friend alive at this point. Every once in a while Stiles whimpered, shifting on the bed restlessly. He had been in and out of consciousness the past few days with varying degrees of coherence. Derek pressed his lips together tightly, forcing himself not to cry. He wouldn’t...he couldn’t...not when so many people out there needed him to be strong.

“Mind if I take over?” the Sheriff asked as he poked his head into the room, his voice gravelly from emotion and lack of sleep.

Derek stood, offering up his chair. “No problem.”

The Sheriff smiled at him tightly as he walked closer. “I don’t think I’ve had a chance to say this, but thank you. For everything you’ve done for him. Even before this. I know I wasn’t entirely thrilled with the idea of you guys because of the age thing…but who cares about that now, right?”

“Thank you, sir,” Derek replied, a confusing swirl of emotion raging in his chest. “I’ll just…” he gestured absently towards the door.

“Um, Deaton just got here; he said he wanted to speak to you?”

“Did he find anything?” Derek asked anxiously.

The Sheriff shrugged. “He wouldn’t say.”

Derek sighed heavily. “This is one case when the saying ‘no news is good news’ doesn’t really apply.”

The Sheriff chuckled harshly. “You’re telling me.”

“We’ll find something,” Derek insisted. “I’m not letting him go.”

The Sheriff nodded. “Me neither.”

Taking one last burst of pain from Stiles, Derek leaned over and kissed him gently on the forehead before joining the others out in the hall. Lydia made her way quickly to his side, hugging him almost as much for his own benefit as her own. Derek sagged into her hold; keeping Stiles going took a lot out of him. “You took too much,” she muttered out of the side of her mouth.

“Not enough,” Derek replied grimly as Deaton approached them. “So, I hear you have some thoughts on treatment?”

“I do,” Deaton replied. “You’re not going to like it.”

Derek stared at him blankly. There wasn’t much about this situation that he did like. “Try me.”

“It would require a sacrifice.” He glanced at Scott for a second before returning his gaze to Derek. “By an alpha.”

“What kind of sacrifice?” Derek asked, crossing his arms across his chest. Lydia kept an arm on his back, centering him.

“Of power. You’ve noticed how he improves momentarily after you or Scott are in with him?”

“Yeah,” Derek confirmed, glancing at Scott.

“It’s the same idea. Only...you don’t stop when you feel that tug that you’re draining your power too much.”

“And that would cure Stiles?” Scott asked hopefully.

“Love can do miraculous things,” Deaton replied cryptically.

“I’ll do it,” Scott announced, causing Derek to start in confusion.

“No, I will,” he insisted.

“Derek…”

“No Scott,” Derek interrupted. “Look, you’re better at this whole alpha thing than I am anyways.”

“That’s a lie and you know it.”

Derek shrugged. “Perhaps. But you’re something special, Scott. True alphas are so rare, you know that. I’m not about to let you give that up. For all we know that’s what whoever set that trap wanted.”

“You do have a point,” Scott conceded. “But what if it was you they wanted?”

“Then they’ll get what they want,” Derek replied, a firm tone of finality in his voice. “I’m doing it.”

“What about Derek?” Lydia demanded, her heart racing loud enough to easily be picked up by his sensitive ears. “Will he be okay?”

“He should be fine,” Deaton assured her, though Derek could detect the tremor in his voice. “But we have to act soon. I’m afraid that Stiles might not have much time.”

“Alright, let’s do this,” Derek proclaimed, clapping his hands together.

“No,” Lydia interrupted. “You just came out of there, you need to recharge. You’re not going to be any use to Stiles at half power.”

“Fine,” Derek sighed. “We’ll wait until tonight.”

“I’ll keep him going,” Scott proposed. “We’re gonna do this. We’ll bring him back to us.”

If only Derek could be so sure.

* * *

“Ready?” Deaton asked as Derek gripped Stiles’ weak hand tightly.

He took a deep, calming breath. “Ready.” Closing his eyes, Derek focused on drawing Stiles’ pain into his own body. It felt like knives were flowing through his bloodstream, but it was normal. Nothing he’d never felt before. Stiles’ face scrunched up before he blinked his eyes open, smiling at Derek.

“Thanks, dude,” he muttered. “I love you.”

“Let’s not get all sentimental, now,” Derek chided, trying to hide the sudden flare of panic in his chest. “There’s plenty of time for you to be romantic later.”

“That’s just me, Mr. Romance.”

“Just your style,” Derek murmured as he sucked more pain out, gritting his teeth to hide the struggle from Stiles.

“Don’t overdo it,” Stiles warned weakly. “It won’t do me any good if you’re in a bed next to me. A hospital bed. Our bed would be amazing right now.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Derek replied as he extracted another chunk of pain.

“My head,” Stiles muttered. “It’s feeling clearer.”

“Good,” Derek replied through gritted teeth. He was reaching the threshold he had to cross. He felt his skin ripple as hair sprouted and fangs elongated, eyes flashing red.

“What are you doing?” Stiles asked, looking at his transformed figure in confusion.

“Saving your life,” Derek replied, panting for breath as he pulled and pulled, taking on so much pain it was unbearable. A shout formed in his throat, it was the most bizarre thing ever, he could almost feel the sound building in slow motion before everything exploded; his voice filled the room and his eyes flashed, blinding him momentarily.

“Derek, no!” Stiles called out, but it was too late. Not that he would have changed his mind. Derek blinked as his vision returned, first his wolf infrared and then his human sight as his wolf features receded. He felt weak...really weak. But there was color in Stiles’ cheeks that hadn’t been there minutes before, and even though they had to run tests, he instinctively knew that the plan had worked. “Your eyes are blue,” Stiles remarked dumbly, hand absently reaching out towards Derek’s face. “Why?”

“It was the only way,” Derek explained. “You’re more important than being an alpha. Besides, it was kind of in name only after my pack up and left town.” Sure, he understood why. His three betas had been on a wavelength that even he wasn’t privy to. Once Erica killed the alpha that tried to attack them and acquired his powers, it was only natural that they would choose her for their leader. It still hurt, but he knew that it was in the best interest of the pack. He still had Scott and everyone else, and that had been enough. And now that he was a beta again, his place in the group was a little more logical. It was a win for everyone. “Plus, if it wasn’t me, it would have been Scott. We fought over it.”

Stiles grinned up at him. “Gee, you know how to make a guy feel loved.”

Derek suddenly grew serious. “I do, you know. Love you.”

“I know, man.” Stiles replied with equal conviction. “I thought we covered that months ago.”

Derek shrugged. “I know. I just…I needed you to know. It was important.”

Stiles smiled weakly as his eyes fluttered shut. His heartbeat stayed even and he seemed to be improving already, so the action didn’t cause Derek much concern. “I think I’ve always known,” Stiles murmured as he drifted to sleep.

“Me too,” Derek replied, kissing his forehead tenderly as he left to tell the others of the good news.

* * *

“How is he?” Lydia asked anxiously as Derek left Stiles’ room, the Sheriff joining her as he stood to hear how things went.

“He’s okay,” Derek sighed in relief, his face finally relaxing into a disbelieving kind of joy. “I mean, they have to run some tests...but I can tell. It’s over.”

“Thank god,” the Sheriff muttered. “Can I see him?”

“He’s resting right now, and Deaton’s checking him out. I’m sure they’ll want to bring in his doctor, but I don’t see why not. I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you once he wakes up, he was more coherent than he’s been in days.”

“Thanks, kid,” the Sheriff replied, clapping a hand firmly on Derek’s shoulder while giving him a significant look that Lydia couldn’t quite decipher. Once the Sheriff went into the room, Lydia wrapped her arms around Derek’s waist, holding him close. At this proximity, she could feel his muscles trembling; he was using every ounce of energy he had left to keep it together.

“I’m going to take this one home,” Lydia announced, pulling out slightly to face the rest of the waiting party.

“I’m fine,” Derek insisted. Lydia shot him a withering glare that made him shut his mouth tightly.

“Call us if anything changes?” she asked Scott.

“Of course,” he replied. “Get some rest, dude.”

Once they rounded the corner, Derek sagged into her side, letting her carry a little more of his weight. “Thank you for that,” he told her softly.

“That’s why I’m the smart one,” she quipped, standing on her toes to press a kiss onto his cheek. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

“Mmm, sounds nice,” he teased, wiggling his eyebrows lasciviously.

Lydia snorted. “That’s the opposite of resting, mister. But you are coming home with me.”

Derek stopped short. “You don’t have to…”

“I want to. I’m not about to go leaving you all alone when you’re like this, you might do something stupid.”

“I would never!” Derek insisted as they arrived at her car.

“I’m sure,” Lydia teased. “It’s not up for debate.”

Derek gave her a put on sigh. “Well, if you insist…”

“I do.”

The ride to her house was fairly short, much shorter than it had felt the past few days when they stopped by for a few hours of sleep and a quick meal. It was amazing how good news could change one’s perspective. Once they arrived, she quickly ushered Derek upstairs. Settling him in her bed, propped up by her many pillows, she descended to the kitchen to grab some food for him, practically running into her mother along the way.

“Mom! I didn’t realize you’d be home.”

“I could say the same thing about you. Though I’m glad to see you. How’s Stiles?”

“Better,” Lydia replied. The words felt really good to say. “Thank god.”

“I’m so happy for you, sweetheart,” her mother gushed, pulling her into a hug. “I bet you and Derek are thrilled.”

“Yeah,” Lydia agreed. “Actually, I brought Derek home. He hasn’t been sleeping or eating right the past few days and I was worried he’d pass out if left to his own devices.” The lie slipped easily off her tongue; she had still managed to avoid telling her mother about the supernatural elephant in the room; now didn’t seem like the time to try and explain.

“That’s probably a good idea,” her mother agreed. “I made some cream of broccoli soup for dinner, do you think he’d like that?”

“Sounds great, Mom,” Lydia replied, grabbing two bowls from the cupboard. Once she had served up the soup and made a few peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, Lydia loaded up the tray her mom usually used when she was sick and needed to eat in bed and brought the food upstairs. She had to suppress a chuckle as she entered the room. Derek had fallen asleep, still propped up into a seated position, his head lolling forward on his chest. “Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty,” she announced, walking over and settling the tray on the bed. Derek blinked his eyes blearily a few times before focusing on her, or more precisely, the tray of food.

“Oh god, that smells amazing,” he muttered longingly.

“You can thank my mom for that,” Lydia replied, shifting the tray so that it rested over his lap before dipping the spoon into the creamy liquid and holding it up to Derek’s mouth. “Open up.”

“What?” he asked, taken aback as she shoved the spoon into his open orifice. “I’m not a baby,” he mumbled as he swallowed the soup down.

“Can you hold the spoon without getting everything all over the bed? Because these are clean sheets and I’m not washing them again,” Lydia snipped, trying not to get too irritated with Derek’s stubbornness.

“Of course I can,” Derek huffed, snatching the spoon from her hand, watching to his dismay as his hand shook involuntarily.

“You spent a lot of energy today, you just need some time to recuperate,” Lydia assured him. “Look, you always give so much of yourself helping everyone else. Let someone help you for a change.”

Derek handed the spoon back over to her sheepishly. “I’m not that good at that, am I?”

“Nope,” Lydia replied. “Not at all. But you can start with baby steps.” Derek scrunched up his face. “Okay, maybe not the best choice of words. Come on, the sooner you eat, the sooner you can sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

“Thank you,” Derek replied softly, grabbing her wrist. “It _is_ nice being taken care of for a change.” Lydia put the television on as they shared their meal, the whole affair feeling wonderfully intimate. Once the last bits of soup had been scraped from the bowls and all that remained of the sandwiches were crumbs, Lydia helped Derek to the bathroom to get ready for bed. After a lot of maneuvering and awkward waiting right outside the door just in case, they both slid into bed. It was early, but neither of them had slept well all week. It felt nice to curl up against the warm heat of Derek’s body. Sure, the emptiness of Stiles’ absence was felt, but knowing that he was going to be alright was enough for the time being. Their breathing slowed, first in tandem and then down in pace until the weight pressed down on their eyelids and a gentle sleep overtook the pair for the first time in days.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's sex in this one. :)

“I don’t need to be in a wheelchair, I can walk,” Stiles huffed as his dad and Melissa guided him out of the hospital.

“Hospital policy, Stiles,” his step-mother reminded him.

“Besides, you don’t want to over exert yourself. I still don’t think you should be going back to school tomorrow…” his father cautioned.

“Dad, we’ve been over this. I’m okay now. Well, except for the mountains of makeup work I have. And honestly, that’s going to take forever as it is, even if Lydia helps,” Stiles insisted.

“Sher, he really is doing alright. Doctor Sherman wouldn’t have cleared him if he wasn’t, okay?”

“I know,” his dad replied tiredly. “If you really think so…”

“I do,” she replied, leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek. Stiles was finally used to seeing that; it wasn’t like his dad had ever really dated anyone since his moms so it had been years since he’d witnessed that kind of casual intimacy. But the way that his father smiled sheepishly as she pulled away made any kind of awkwardness worth it to see him so happy. Still, it wouldn’t be right if he let them get away with it completely.

“Well, if you two are finished being cutesy,” Stiles interrupted loudly, “there’s a pillow at home with my name on it.”

“You’d better get the patient home,” Melissa told his father pointedly. “I’ll see you later.”

“You’re lucky you just almost died, kid,” his father muttered as he rolled him out of the hospital. “I guess I’ll have to let that slide.”

“You know I like that you’re happy, right?” Stiles asked, suddenly serious.

“I know, kid. I wouldn’t expect anything less,” his dad assured him. “Let’s get you home.”

They rode back to the house in a comfortable silence, his dad glancing over at him every few seconds as if to make sure that he was really there. Stiles made a mental note to try not to get himself into another life or death situation for a while if he could help it; he owed his dad that much, even if it wasn’t something he had much control over.

Stiles insisted on walking to the front door; he was a little wobbly from being bedridden for a week and the slight twinge in his leg was annoying more than painful, but otherwise he was fine. He couldn’t help but grin as they entered the house; Scott, Allison, and Kira were all sitting together on the couch; Derek and Lydia rushed over to greet him with a hug.

“Careful,” his father warned, but Stiles ignored him, letting himself be circled by their warm embrace.

“Welcome home,” Derek greeted, doing that adorable thing he does where he’s trying to valiantly to hide his emotions and be stoic but he just has so many feelings that they burst out from behind his scruff. Though Stiles loves the less reserved Derek he and Lydia have the privilege to see behind closed doors, this version of Derek is still one of his favorites. The first time he saw it was when it really hit home that Derek was a full person, not just some guy with a tragic past who lurked around threatening bodily harm. If he really wanted to get sentimental, he could say that it was the first time he felt the feeling that he later identified as love. But that would be a bit of an exaggeration of the truth, more wishful thinking than reality. Instead, he just nuzzled in closer as Lydia pressed a kiss to his cheek. Tears stung at his eyes for the first time though this whole ordeal, overwhelmed with the feeling of being loved and protected and... _safe._

“I hate to break up this party, but Stiles needs to rest. I think it might be best if you all went home, it’s getting kinda late,” his dad instructed. Lydia and Derek pulled back, but both kept an arm wound around his body. He’d like to think that it was some grand romantic gesture, but in all honesty, they were probably worried about him falling down.

“Dad!” Stiles whined. His father just raised his eyebrows. “This is payback, isn’t it.”

His dad smirked even as he shook his head in the negative. “This is me wanting my son to fully recover.”

“I have,” Stiles assured him.

“It’s okay,” Lydia replied calmly. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

“But Scott gets to stay!” Stiles protested, even knowing that it was a lost cause.

“Scott also happens to live here. They don’t,” his father snipped right back. They weren’t related for nothing. “Besides, it’s not like I have to worry about Scott wearing you out-”

“We’re leaving,” Derek announced loudly, giving Stiles one last squeeze before heading to the door. Stiles held up his thumb and pinkie fingers to make a phone shape with his hand, mouthing “call me”. He caught Derek smirking and rolling his eyes as he left. Typical.

“Alright, kiddo, let’s get you upstairs,” his dad announced. Sighing and resigning himself to his fate, Stiles climbed the stairs, itching for things to get back to normal.

* * *

“So…” Derek began awkwardly once they were in the car. “Should I take you home?”

“That depends,” Lydia returned, resting her elbow on the windowsill and her head in her hand, facing his direction. “My home or yours?”

Derek’s stomach fluttered nervously. “Which would you prefer?”

“Ours,” Lydia replied softly. “Which in this case is yours.”

“Do you need to pick up anything from your place?” Derek asked as he backed out of the driveway.

Lydia picked up a bag that he somehow hadn’t noticed before tucked by her feet. “I came prepared.”

Squeezing the steering wheel, Derek forced himself to focus on the road. It wouldn’t do any of them good to get in an accident and end up right back in the hospital just when Stiles had been released. But the last few nights sharing Lydia’s bed had been excruciating. For one thing, they were still both too emotionally frayed to do much more than hold each other. For another, he knew Lydia wasn’t too comfortable with doing much of anything more than that with her mother was around and aware of what they could be up to. But after so many days and nights of numbness and worry, feeling was suddenly coming back, a hunger gnawed at his very core. He noticed that Lydia had been growing kind of antsy as well; she seemed to be experiencing a similar reaction. It was only typical, he supposed, to be so sexually charged in the face of death. It was a basic procreative instinct. But there was more than that. He missed the touch, the contact that his relationship with Stiles and Lydia provided that had been missing from his life for so long. He just wanted them to be together and in love.

But Stiles wasn’t with them. He would be soon, though, and that had to be enough. He almost wished Lydia had asked to go to her place.

They succeeded in practicing self restraint for a little while. They fixed up a quick dinner, which they ate side by side while watching whatever was on television before curling up together, the screen flickering across their faces in the darkening room. At one point, their eyes met and time seemed to stand still. And then, suddenly, their mouths were pressed together with both parties eager. They stumbled their way into the bedroom, lips barely leaving each other for more than a few seconds even as they removed clothing from their top halves. Derek backed Lydia up until she was pressed flat against the wall as she tossed her head back, baring her neck for him. Her wrists pressed firmly against his hands as he gently pinned them against the wall above her head, grinning at the slight whimper the action incited as she deepened the kiss. But Derek moved his mouth away, tracing a path of feather light presses of lips down her chin until he reached the dip of her neck right above the collarbone. He was torn between a desire to mark her as his and a fear of hurting her. He finally decided to just go for it when for the first time he felt a resistance against the palms of his hand.

“Derek, stop,” Lydia gasped. Derek immediately released her, stepping back to give her space if that’s what she needed.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked nervously.

“Honey, no,” she soothed, stepping forward to kiss him in gentle assurance. “It’s just...Stiles…”

Sure, it wasn’t unusual for two partners in a triad to have sex without the other member present. But they hadn’t ever really discussed the idea with Stiles...and whatever they did wouldn’t really feel right if they knew they might be hurting him. “Well, he did say to call,” Derek muttered, sliding his phone out from his pants pocket and pulling up Stiles’ contact information. He led Lydia over to the bed, letting her get comfortable and lay down before he hit the call button. As the line rang, he settled down next to her, rubbing his hand in a circular motion across her chest, exerting just enough pressure to be enticing and keep the energy in the room going. Lydia raised an eyebrow at him, but she seemed to relax into the motion, smiling softly when his hand traveled across her breasts.

Finally, Stiles picked up. “Took you long enough,” he muttered on the other end of the line.

“We wanted to let you rest,” Derek explained.

“So that’s why you’re calling at nine o’clock at night?” Derek could practically hear the smirk in his voice.

“We’ve encountered a slight...dilemma,” Derek explained. “I’m going to put you on speaker, okay?”

“Sure, sure. So what’s up?”

“Well, we’re both sitting here without any shirts on and you’re not,” Lydia explained.

“Oh,” Stiles exclaimed. “ _That_ kind of a problem. Well, unfortunately I’m under house arrest until tomorrow. Feel free to, you know, without me if you want. Although…”

“Although what?” Derek asked.

“I might not be there physically. But I’m still in the room right now, aren’t I?”

Derek couldn’t help but grin. “I suppose you’re right. So, how are we going to do this? Do we tell you what we’re doing?”

“How about I tell you?” Stiles suggested in what was clearly supposed to be his sultry tone, though the phone gave it a bit of a tinny quality that almost, but not quite ruined the effect. Lydia’s breath hitched and Derek felt equally excited.

“Oh yeah?” Derek teased, his voice coming out a little huskier. “You think we’re about to let you boss us around?”

“Absolutely, one-hundred percent yes,” Stiles replied confidently.

“Then you’d probably be right,” Lydia replied wryly, leaning forward to kiss Derek loudly. Stiles voice was soothing as it whispered instructions for them to follow. It felt almost voyeuristic, somehow, as if Stiles was actually in the room watching them go at it. Derek was startled by how much that idea turned him on; something to file away for later, he supposed. But right now he let himself be directed by Stiles (and by Lydia when Stiles’ instructions weren’t quite doing it for her; “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” she whispered in his ear, though Stiles had quickly guessed what was going on). After so many days of worry and tension, it felt so wonderful to just _let go_ , just to feel. To feel how much his partners loved him and how much he loved them in return. He was close to the edge way to fast, but it didn’t seem to matter. Stiles’ voce was quickly becoming more and more wrecked and Lydia seemed to be as far gone as he was. Derek finally came with a shout, thankful that he lived alone and that the size of the loft made it virtually impossible for his downstairs neighbors to hear what was going on. Lydia writhed against him, chasing her own pleasure as Stiles’ muffled moans joined them.

“Wow,” Derek gasped as he collapsed back onto his pillow, cuddling Lydia close. “That was…”

“Different,” Lydia panted, blinking up at him blearily. Derek brushed a lock of hair behind her hair tenderly.

“Yeah,” Stiles agreed around a yawn. “Oh man, I’m wiped.”

“Was this too much?” Derek asked urgently, kicking himself for not thinking about Stiles’ well being after everything…

“Derek, I’m fine,” Stiles assured them, a hint of annoyance in his voice. “Gonna sleep now.”

“See you at school tomorrow,” Lydia replied. “And don’t think for a second just because I love you that I’m doing your make up work for you.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Stiles replied. “Night, guys. Love you.”

“Love you too,” Derek answered, waiting until Stiles hung up his line. “Well, I guess we’re going to have to get used to this.”

“Hmm?” Lydia hummed sleepily.

“Well, you and Stiles will be off at college come the fall, so we might not all be in the same place for a while…”

Lydia grew still. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you both about that, but with everything going on…”

“Priorities.”

“Yeah,” Lydia sighed, shifting away. “I’ve heard back from a few schools. UCLA. Stanford. Harvard. Smith. Yale.”

Derek schooled his face into a neutral position. “Lots of east coast schools, there.”

“I know,” Lydia sighed. “Some of them I applied to just to see if I could get in.”

Derek looked at her skeptically. “You’re joking, right? I know we kid around about who the smart one is, but come on, you’ve got both me and Stiles beat.”

“Thanks,” Lydia replied softly, looking at him almost...bashfully. That was unusual. “I originally wanted to stay around here. But now…”

“Those schools aren’t abstracts anymore,” Derek finished for her.

“Exactly,” she sighed.

“Hey,” Derek demanded, cupping her face softly. “I can’t speak for Stiles, but I don’t want you picking a school because of us. I want you to find where you will be the happiest, the place that will give you the challenge you need. We’ll make us work, okay?” he shrugged. “Who knows, I’d be open to relocating.”

“Really?” Lydia asked, pulling back in surprise. “But Beacon Hills is your home.”

“You’re my home. You and Stiles.”

Lydia snorted. “Who knew you were such a sap.”

Derek blushed. “You love it.”

“I do,” Lydia replied with a tender smile.

“We’ll figure it out,” Derek reassured her. “But for now, we should sleep.” He reached over to set an alarm before they dozed off; unfortunately Lydia had to be a responsible student in the morning.

Nodding, Lydia burrowed into his side the way she had the past few nights. And maybe it was sappy, but it was true. He could be happy anywhere as long as he was surrounded by the people he loved.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

Lydia groaned as her alarm blared through the silence, jarring her awake way too early. It was even harder waking up when she was with Derek; his warmth was much more appealing than the night chilled air in the room. Finally accepting her fate, she sat up slowly, trying not to wake her partner as she fumbled to turn the beeping off. Unfortunately he stirred as the bed shifted, blinking his eyes sleepily. “Immawake,” he mumbled thickly.

“Go back to sleep,” she whispered.

Scrunching up his face, Derek closed his eyes and settled back into the bed. Shivering at coolness of the air, she pulled on the shirt she had ripped off Derek the day before so she could locate her overnight bag. It was a bit difficult navigating the loft in the dark; Derek probably didn’t have a use for a night light in the bathroom with his built in infrared. Somehow, she managed it without knocking anything over, finally slipping under the warm stream coming out of the shower with a contented sigh. Lydia rushed through her usual routine, though using Derek’s shower was certainly an adjustment, trying to figure out which knob turned what on and all that. She picked up her little bottle of body wash before setting it back down in exchange for one of Derek’s bottles instead. It was an impulsive move, but one she hoped would pay off.

Lydia dressed as quickly as possible, patting her hair furiously, willing it to dry. Of course she forgot a hair dryer. Maybe it was an up-do kind of day.

The scent of pancakes greeted her as she walked down the stairs into the main living area of the loft. “Derek?” she called out, startled by the development.

“I couldn’t send you off without a filling, education supporting breakfast,” he explained, sliding a big fluffy pancake onto a plate, wiping his hands on the... _paisley_ _apron_ tied around his waist. He turned to face her, eyes going wide. “You smell like me,” he said in shock.

Lydia smirked. “Well, I suppose after last night…”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it,” he returned, closing the gap between them and pulling her close, burying his head in the crook of her neck.

“Wow, I didn’t know you liked how you smelled so much,” Lydia snarked, though secretly she was pleased.

“I like how much I smell on you,” he replied, his voice husky as he drew her into a fervent kiss.

Lydia finally pulled back, gasping for air after a few minutes. “You’re gonna burn the pancakes.”

Derek’s face quickly spilled into a horrified expression. “Oh god.”

“It’s fine, I’ve got this,” Lydia told him, kissing him softly on the cheek.

“But this was for you!” Derek insisted.

“We can make them together,” Lydia replied. Breakfast went by way too fast; soon enough she was running around to make sure she had everything she needed. The car ride was excruciating. Every second closer they got to the school, the warm rapport of their alone time was being replaced with the veneer of their public selves. The shift wasn’t abrupt, but Lydia felt on edge. Even the prospect of seeing Stiles wasn’t enough to calm her nerves.

“Well,” Derek spoke as they pulled into the parking lot of Beacon Hills high school, “here we are.”

“I think I see Stiles parked over there,” she replied, pointing to the familiar vehicle.

“I can’t believe his dad let him drive that thing,” Derek muttered.

“He’s okay,” Lydia reminded him. “Thanks to you.”

Derek snorted derisively as he parked the car. “Some hero I am. That trap was probably set for me, he was in that situation because of _me_ …”

“You don’t know that,” Lydia chided, grasping his hand tightly. “Come on, see for yourself that everything’s fine.”

Nodding reluctantly, Derek shoved open the car door. As they approached, Lydia noticed Stiles leaning up against the side of his beloved Jeep. His face lit up when he saw the two of them; his color looked much better than it had even the day before. Lydia felt vindicated in her words of assurance of his improving condition, even if some of the motivation behind her words was an attempt to reassure herself. “Boy, am I glad to see you guys,” he gushed, flinging his arms around them and pulling them into a tight hug. “I’ve wanted to do that since last night.” He pulled back slightly to look directly at Derek. “And before you get all worked up, no, I didn’t drive, Allison did. Happy?”

“Very,” Derek replied, leaning in to kiss Stiles softly. “You two have a good day, alright? And if you’re up for it...maybe you can come to my place after school.”

“I’d love that,” Stiles replied as he looked between them both. “We have a lot of time to make up for.”

* * *

Derek couldn’t rein in the grin that seemed to be permanently stuck on his face after he left Stiles and Lydia at the school and drove back to his loft. Everything really did feel like it would be alright now; for once he decided to trust it. Sure, his life had a way of sucking no matter what he did to stop it, but things had been different since he let Stiles and Lydia into his life. All of those worries he harbored all those months ago seemed foolish now, Lydia’s words pushing aside the brief flare up that morning. She knew what she was talking about; he should listen to her.

His good mood vanished, however, when he approached his loft to discover his uncle leaning casually against the wall, scrolling through his phone. At least this time he didn’t let himself in. they were making progress. “Oh good, you’re back,” Peter greeted crisply, setting Derek on edge. His uncle was never this...perky. Something was up.

“What do you want?” Derek asked bluntly as he unlocked his apartment and let them both inside.

“To see how you were holding up after that whole Stilinski mess.”

Derek snorted. “Thanks for your concern, but that all started over a week ago. You’re a bit late.”

Peter shrugged. “You barely left the hospital. And to say that your friends don’t care for me is an understatement.”

“I wonder why,” Derek muttered, flashing back to the night Peter forced Lydia to resurrect him. He kept his guard up.

“I didn’t want to cause any undue anxiety, I’m considerate like that.” Derek looked at him skeptically. “I heard the kid’s going to make a full recovery, thanks to you.” Derek froze. How did Peter know about that? He doubted that Deaton would have disclosed that kind of information; Peter had never been his favorite person. “So it’s true? You’re not an alpha anymore?” Derek flashed his eyes at Peter, just wanting to have this conversation over and done with. “I missed those baby blues,” Peter remarked.

“Cute,” Derek replied tightly, arms crossed over his chest. “Well, I’m fine. So you can go.”

“Is that any way to talk to your uncle?” Peter chided, tisking softly. “Besides, you forget how well I know you. You must be feeling pretty guilty.”

“About what?” Derek asked, trying to sound clueless even though he had voiced the same concerns to Lydia not an hour before.

“This is your fault. I mean, from a legal standpoint, it happened on our property and all that. Liability. But Stiles only got caught by accident. It should have been you.” _Or you_ , Derek thought bitterly. He wasn’t sure what Peter was up to, but whatever it was, he could see through the blatant attempts at manipulation. He just didn’t want to let on that he knew; maybe he could use that to his advantage.

“Why is it always me?” Derek asked, trying to sound as pitiful as possible, drawing on a few of the painful memories of his past to give off the proper scent.

“Some of us just have to suffer, it’s life,” Peter explained. “That’s what happens to survivors like us.” _I’m not like you_. “We’re toxic, Derek. We hurt people. Stiles wouldn’t have been in the woods that night if it wasn’t for you.”

But that wasn’t entirely true, was it? Stiles had been after that stupid bird from the dead guy’s tattoo. And as far as they knew, that had nothing to do with Derek; it was Scott and his partners who were targeted. Unless Peter knew something they didn’t. Which he probably did, he usually had one up on them. If Peter had information...he had to find out, even if it meant sucking up.

“And I think as much as this town meant to your mother,” Peter continued, “our usefulness in Beacon Hills has waned considerably. Scott can handle himself; the town will have its savior. We could do with a fresh start.” He paused, looking Derek directly in the eyes. “It would be a shame if something else happened to Stiles or Lydia.” The way he said it sounded almost like a threat. And coupled by the way Peter always seemed to just show up when something was going down, knowing things he should have any knowledge of...maybe it was.

A plan began to take hold in Derek’s mind. If he could get Peter away, he could protect his partners. Maybe without his interference they could get to the bottom of whatever was going on. But if he just up and left town, they would be suspicious. They’d come after him. Try and save him. He’d have to prepare for it.

“Where do you propose we go?” Derek asked cautiously, trying to buy some time.

“I don’t know, we could wander around wherever the wind takes us. Maybe go out to New York?”

“No,” Derek replied, more harshly than he intended. New York was where he and Laura ended up for a while after the fire, blending into the crowds with a blissful anonymity. He wasn’t about to let Peter ruin that place for him. Not after what he did to his sister. “How about somewhere closer? Colorado?”

“We can try,” Peter sighed, “but it might not be far enough.”

“Give me twenty minutes and I’ll be packed,” Derek told him, turning to head towards his bedroom.

“I’m kind of surprised that you’re agreeing,” Peter remarked. “I got the impression that you hated me.”

Derek shrugged. “How I feel about you is irrelevant. It doesn’t stop you from being right. I’m not doing anyone any favors by staying.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Peter replied. “I can’t wait. This should be fun.”

Derek seriously doubted that. He rushed upstairs, throwing whatever clothes he could find into a bag before grabbing some basic toiletries. He loitered over his body wash, the memory of its scent embedded on Lydia’s skin still sending shivers down his spine. Taking a chance, he grabbed a sharpie and scribed a heart on the bottom of the bottle. Before returning downstairs, he scribbled a quick note that he left on his pillow, in plain sight so that they’d be sure to see it. Hesitating, Derek slipped off his ring and placed it on top of the note, needing to make Peter believe he was serious about this. He hated the empty feeling that it left behind, but took heart knowing that he would wear it again someday.

Taking a deep breath, he rejoined Peter, hoping that he was making the right decision.

* * *

Knock. Knock. Knock. “Derek?” Lydia called out, frowning and growing slightly concerned when Derek didn’t open the door.

“He did say to meet him here, right?” Stiles asked, looking equally confused.

“He did.” This whole situation didn’t sit right; it wasn’t like Derek not to show up where he said he would be. Not without a reason. She pulled out her keys, jiggling them until she found the right one.

“Do you think we should be breaking into his place like this?” Stiles asked nervously as she jiggled the key into the proper slot.

“It’s not breaking in if he gave us the keys,” Lydia replied.

“That was in case of emergencies.”

“This could be one,” she replied, sliding the door open. “Come on,” They looked around the quiet loft; it seemed deserted. “Derek? Lydia called out, keeping her eyes peeled for anything that might be lurking in the shadows.

“Maybe he’s taking a nap?” Stiles suggested?

“And he doesn’t hear us calling?” Lydia replied skeptically.

“It doesn’t hurt to check,” Stiles mumbled. He did have a point. Sighing, Lydia climbed the stairs, calling out his name again and again. Still nothing. The door to Derek’s room was ajar. He was not on the bed, but a note was, as well as his ring. Her breath hitched in her throat, her mind racing with the gentle touches and pancakes and all the little signs of ‘I love you’s he’d left scattered around that very morning. This couldn’t be happening.

“Something’s not right,” Lydia muttered, rushing over to pick up the note, holding the ring tightly in her hand.

“What does it say?” Stiles asked urgently.

“Dear Lydia and Stiles,” she began to read. “I am sorry that I cannot do this in person; if I did, I think I’d lose my nerve. Everything that’s happened this past week has just confirmed what I thought; I might not have caused this crisis, but I can’t let myself cause the next one. So this is goodbye. Please don’t try and find me. You’re better off this way. Smell you later, Derek.” Lydia frowned. “That was...odd.”

“Which part?” Stiles asked dryly. “The part where Derek broke up with us through a note or the part where he used a strange colloquialism?

“Both,” Lydia replied. Smell...he had barely been able to keep his hands to himself after he smelled his body wash on her skin. “Let me check something,” she muttered rushing to the bathroom. “Ah ha!” she exclaimed, picking up the bottle and examining the bottom, which had a heart drawn on the plastic that she was certain wasn’t there this morning. “It’s a clue. Something’s off about this whole thing and he’s trying to warn us.”

“I think it’s time we called Scott,” Stiles told her, pulling out his phone. He was right; maybe Scott could sense something they would miss. But Lydia knew one thing: they had to get Derek back before something happened. Fast.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for graphic violence.

Scott closed his eyes as he sniffed the air of the loft experimentally. Most of the scents were familiar; Derek, Lydia, Stiles. But Derek’s had a sharp edge to it; it was pretty obvious that Derek’s decision to leave wasn’t entirely his own. His suspicions were confirmed when he finally caught another scent.

“Peter was here,” he announced. “A few hours ago.”

“I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that this is not a coincidence,” Stiles chimed in.

“Derek left his ring. It belonged to his parents. He wouldn’t leave that here unless he wanted us to know something was wrong,” Lydia added.

“Do you think you can track him?” Stiles asked his best friend urgently.

“I can try. But you know Peter; he probably covered their tracks pretty well.” They followed Scott as he followed the scent outside. Scott swore. “They must have driven off, I’ve lost it. And there’s something weird...usually I could smell the car or something but it just vanished…”

“I think it’s time we called in the professionals,” Stiles replied grimly.

“I’ll call Allison,” Lydia interjected, whipping out her phone.

“We’ll find him, I promise,” Scott assured them. He just hoped it was in one piece.

* * *

“Like hell you’re going out there!” the Sheriff practically shouted, his face turning a muddled shade of red as a vein popped out of his neck. “I’m not letting you.”

“But Dad!” Stiles whined in exasperation. “I have to.”

“You just got out of the hospital! I don’t care if Derek’s missing, I’m not letting you go.” his father insisted.

“What if it was one of my mothers? What if it was Chris or Melissa?” Stiles shot back. “What would you do? You wouldn’t just sit around and wait for other people to find them.”

“I would if I had just gotten out of the hospital!” the Sheriff barked.

“Now that’s a lie and we all know it,” Stiles bit back.

“Hey, hey, Sher, can I talk to you for a minute?” Chris interjected, tugging on his husband’s arm gently.

“I’m kinda in the middle of something here,” the Sheriff huffed.

“I know,” Chris returned. “This is relevant.”

“Fine,” the Sheriff muttered stomping off to the kitchen.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Chris assured the kids, trailing after his husband. “Sher, you’ve gotta calm down, you’re gonna give yourself a heart attack.”

“Why couldn’t my kid be trying to sneak out to go to keg parties like a normal teenager?” the Sheriff sighed.

“Oh come on, this is a thousand times better. At least he’s trying to help people.”

The Sheriff shook his head. “That’s the thing, he takes care of everyone else before thinking about himself and I’m worried it’ll get him killed one of these days. It nearly did.”

“I’m going with them, okay? I’ll look after him, try to make sure he’s out of the action as much as possible,” Chris assured him. “Look, you know as well as I do that you have two options. Either he comes with me where I can keep an eye on him or you’re going to make him stay here and he’ll sneak out and try to find us.”

“Goddamnit.” The Sheriff let out a tired chuckle. “You know my kid about as well as I do.”

“He’s stubborn,” Chris returned. “Just like his father.”

“You’re right,” the Sheriff conceded.

“I’m always right,” Chris preened, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “Now I think you need to go talk to your son.”

* * *

Allison shook off the chill of nervousness as she and Lydia entered her basement to gather supplies for their reconnaissance mission. She hadn’t been down there since the night of the attack; her bow and arrow and her other essential weaponry were stashed at her new home. Anything she needed from their stores her father retrieved on her behalf. But time was of the essence; her feelings could suck it up and deal with it.

She was gathering a few pairs of night vision goggles when she noticed Lydia gazing at one of the storage areas, seemingly lost in thought. “Lydia? You okay?”

“What do you keep in here?” she asked distractedly.

“In the shale chest? Saltpeter. My dad likes to make his own gunpowder sometimes.”

Lydia’s eyes widened. “Saltpeter in the shale chest?” she repeated as if her sudden epiphany was obvious.

“And…?”

“I know who was behind the attack.”

“Who?” Allison demanded.

“Peter,” Lydia replied, her voice cracking slightly. “Saltpeter Shale. Peter Hale. I was drawn to this container after the attack, the Sheriff said I was having some kind of fit...it has to be him.”

“Well then,” Allison replied grimly, picking up a sling of arrows. “Let’s catch that bastard before he can do any more harm.”

* * *

Derek looked around nervously into the dark night, jumping at the smallest of sounds. Being with Peter was never a very pleasant experience; he had to be on guard constantly. For all he knew, Peter was luring him out to the middle of nowhere to finish him off. But for the time being, they were setting up camp for the night. He wondered why Peter insisted on this particular spot; they easily could have kept going. Derek didn’t question it; he had to let Peter think he had the upper hand. And the sooner they stopped, the sooner they could start again, and the sooner he could get Peter away from the people he loved.

They made their camp near the edge of an abandoned quarry. A ledge offered a little shelter and the water made a sneak attack on one side a lot less likely. But there was something off about the place...something was interfering with his sense of smell. It was alarming to say the least. Derek walked to the water’s edge to gaze across the shimmering surface; the mood was almost full. He could feel its growing power throbbing through his body, surging with a power and wildness that he fought hard to restrain. His ears picked up on the slightest rustle in the brush to his right. He frowned. “Something’s out there,” he informed Peter.

“Probably just a squirrel,” his uncle dismissed disinterestedly.

“Guess again, Peter,” a familiar voice called out, echoing slightly against the rock face.

“Right on time,” Peter remarked, coming out to join Derek. “Hello, Scott. I see you brought some friends.” Derek’s heart sank as he saw Scott walking down the sloping embankment towards them, followed by Lydia, Stiles, Allison, and Kira. Of course they all came after him.

“Let him go, Peter,” Scott demanded.

“Scott, it’s okay. I’m here of my own free will,” Derek assured him.

“You’re a horrible liar, Derek,” Stiles chided. Derek glared at him, mentally willing him to shut up. Not that it was one of Stiles’ strong suits.

“While your concern for my nephew is touching, it’s really not necessary,” Peter continued, his voice deceptively smooth. “He’s not the one I want. You are, Scott.”

“Oh god,” Derek groaned. Of course he was the bait. He should have known that this was the plan all along. “Scott, get out of here, all of you, forget about me!” he called out harshly. Shifting into his wolf form, he lunged at his uncle, but Peter ducked out of the way, sending Derek crashing into the wall of rock.

“Lucky for me I brought some friends too,” Peter revealed. As if on cue, shots rang out, causing Derek’s pack to run for cover. Derek lunged at Peter again, this time managing to swipe Peter with his claws. He heard the sound of arrows whooshing through the air; Allison was able to return fire at least. Maybe he could keep Peter distracted enough for Scott to get to safety. He had to prevent Peter from taking his powers, from killing the closest thing he had to a brother, at all costs. Suddenly, a familiar but rusty smell reached his nostrils. Stiles. He was bleeding. Oh god.

All logic escaping his mind, Derek followed his nose, bounding off towards a large tree while dodging bullets. His heart nearly stopped when he saw Stiles crumpled on the ground, clutching his bloodstained side. “Oh god, Stiles, what happened?” Derek asked urgently as he dropped to his knees in front of him, grabbing his face to look him in the eye.

“Sorry about this Der, but it had to be done,” Stiles answered regretfully, voice fairly even for someone who had a wound in their side…

“Do I smell ketchup?” Derek demanded.

“We didn’t have time for fake blood,” Stiles explained.

“But I smelled…”

Stiles held up his finger, which was dribbling actual blood. “We had to get you out of the way.”

“For what?” Derek asked, peeking behind the tree to get a view of the action. “Why is Lydia so close?”

“Wait for it…” Stiles said grimly. Lydia walked closer and closer to Peter. Derek tried to run after her, but Stiles kept him in a surprisingly strong grip. “She knows what she’s doing.”

“Lydia, Lydia, what are you going to try and do? Scream at me?” Peter taunted, the words clear in spite of the continued exchange of fire.

“As a matter of fact, I am,” Lydia revealed. “Goodbye, Peter.” Her body tensed before she tipped her head to the sky like a wolf howling at the moon and let loose a bloodcurdling scream. Derek gripped Stiles tightly in his arms, holding on for dear life. His eyes were glued on Peter; he saw the instant that the bullet entered his chest, right in the heart. He saw the moment the light left his eyes. He saw Kira, fighting off an assailant with her sword, swing wildly and slice through the body in a way that Derek suspected wasn’t an accident.

As Peter fell, the shots stopped firing. The few of his men who were out in the open scattered, apparently spooked by their leader’s demise. Pulling Stiles up roughly, Derek tugged him towards Lydia, who was on her knees, breathing heavily. “You okay?” he asked her gently, helping her to her feet.

“It’s finally over,” she whispered, a little dazed as she stared at the dismembered body.

“We should get out of here,” Stiles said as the others gathered around. Derek shook his head.

“You shouldn’t have done this,” he insisted. “You should have let me handle Peter. You shouldn’t have let him make you into killers.”

“He didn’t,” an unexpected voice corrected him as Chris Argent strode out from the opposite side of the woods. From the direction the bullet came from. Thank god.

“I guess this is the only time I’ll ever be happy about an Argent killing someone in my family,” Derek quipped dryly.

“Cute,” Chris muttered. “Stiles is right, though. We should get a move on. Peter’s troops seem to have backed off, but we should be gone before they change their mind.”

“What about the body?” Derek asked. It wasn’t so much the sentimental value of it. It was more that the last time Peter was dead he didn’t stay that way, and that was not an experience that Derek wanted to relive.

“I’ll call it into the Sheriff. We were out doing some adventuring and we were ambushed. There’s enough bullets out here to sell that story.”

“And the cut in half body?” Derek asked, wishing he had been a little more tactful when he noticed Kira wince.

“Collateral damage,” Chris shrugged as he picked up his phone. “Trust me, I grew up learning how to make werewolves disappear, remember?” As if Derek could forget. A shiver went down his spine even though he knew Argent was different now, even if they had some sort of uneasy friendship. Derek couldn’t help but think once a hunter, always a hunter. It was an instinctual thing, like his wolf senses. It was a part of who he was. “It will work. Let’s just get somewhere safe, alright?”

Derek cast one last look at his uncle’s body. His shirt had risen up towards his lifeless face, revealing the gaping wound, but also a mark he’d never seen before. That same bird tattoo they had been tracking. It had been him all this time...Derek was a little surprised at himself for being so shocked.

“Come on,” Lydia urged, slipping her hand into his right, squeezing slightly as she led him away to follow the rest of the group. Stiles fell in on his opposite side, taking his left hand.

“You weren’t supposed to follow me,” Derek muttered, keeping his eyes firmly trained on the ground under his feet.

Stiles snorted. “You left all those clues, dude…”

Derek shrugged. “I just didn’t want you to think I was leaving because I didn’t love you anymore. I just...I wanted to get Peter away from you.” He shook his head sadly. “And it was all just a trap.”

Scott fell back so he was walking next to their triad. “I’m okay, don’t worry about it, please. It’s not your fault,” Scott assured him. “Peter played you. He played us all.”

“I’m just tired of people getting hurt,” Derek sighed heavily.

“Don’t worry about it, okay?” Stiles said, rubbing his back to try and calm him. “We’re all okay. Just focus on that.”

Easier said than done.


	20. Chapter Twenty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for sex (again).

“I’m fine, you don’t have to stay,” Derek insisted as Lydia and Stiles led him back to his loft. They had been detained by the Sheriff for about an hour, but thankfully their story seemed to hold up. It helped that they had an in at the department.

“Dude, we’re not taking our eyes off of you for a second,” Stiles drawled, clapping his shoulder roughly.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Derek insisted.

“Yeah, I’ve heard that before,” Lydia snapped dryly. “We’re staying.”

“But you must be exhausted, Stiles, you just got out of the hospital…” Derek protested.

“I’m fine,” Stiles assured him with a steely look of determination in his eyes. “I can sleep just as well here as at home. Better even.”

“Alright, okay,” Derek conceded. “Are you hungry? Can I get you something to eat? Drink?”

“Shut up,” Lydia ordered, pulling him close and into a kiss. Derek’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he didn’t question it. “You’re always trying to take care of everyone else. Let us take care of you for a change.” Lydia insisted as she pulled back.

“But-”

“We’re not taking no for an answer, dude,” Stiles informed him, throwing himself down across the couch.

“Unless there’s anything you’re not comfortable with,” Lydia amended.

“I just...you don’t have to do anything,” Derek said in exasperation.

“We want to,” Lydia reminded him. “We want you to remember that we love you.”

Derek smiled softly. “That was never in doubt,” he assured them.

“How about this,” Stiles proposed, leaning forward and arching his fingers like he was some kind of mob boss or something. “I’m going to fuck you.”

“While you fuck me,” Lydia added.

Derek’s wolf eyes flashed as a wave of arousal suddenly hit him at the suggestion. “I think he likes it,” Stiles quipped.

“Bedroom. Now. Please.”

He tried to ignore Stiles’ smirk as they moved, hands gently caressing his skin as clothing quickly disappeared. He closed his eyes, letting himself become lost in the sensations. He reached out, touching whatever he could, kissing whatever part of whichever of them was closest to his mouth. They tumbled onto the bed in a naked heap, Lydia intently paying attention to the crook of his neck from behind while Stiles suckled on his right nipple. He was painfully aware of how hard he was getting, pressing up firmly against Stiles’ stomach, demanding his partner’s attention.

“How,” he panted, arousal making it difficult to speak coherently. “How’re we doing this?” They had done a lot of things in the few months they had been together; this was not one of them. Stiles had bottomed once or twice, but they usually never got that far. Derek wasn’t opposed to the idea, but he also wasn’t quite sure how to go about it being on the other end of things.

“You let us worry about that,” Stiles insisted. Lydia scooted back up the bed towards the headrest, falling back onto the stack of pillows propped there. She tugged Derek to follow her, cradling him against her chest. His head rested right between her breasts, the soft folds pressing gently against either side of his cheek. As she easily wrapped her legs around his waist, he felt the dampness of her arousal press into his back. Derek shifted back and forth getting settled in, smiling in satisfaction at the sharp intake of breath above him and the rapid increase of her heartbeat that echoed in his ears.

Stiles eased his legs apart, stretching them as wide as they could go. The position felt suddenly revealing, his entire body on display. Derek focused on the burn in his muscles from holding his legs in place while Stiles fumbled with a bottle of lube. He focused on Lydia’s breathing, on how every place she touched helped anchor him. Stiles placed a dry hand on the inside of his thigh, both teasing and reassuring. The lube squelched obscenely as Stiles warmed it between his fingers, and Derek couldn’t help but bite back a smile. Still, it was kind of a shock when wet fingers traced his hole, touching him like no one had ever done before. Instinctively, his legs snapped shut, awkwardly trapping Stiles’ hand in between them. A soft kiss was placed on the crown of his head as Lydia’s hands traced comforting circles into his skin.

“You gotta relax for me, buddy, okay?” Stiles soothed, peppering his legs with feather light kisses. Biting his lip, Derek nodded, feeling incredibly embarrassed at his knee-jerk reaction. He wanted this, he really did. It was just terrifying.

 _Let us take care of you_.

Derek opened his legs wide once again, giving Stiles full access. This time, a hand was placed firmly on Derek’s left leg as the right renewed its exploration, first teasing around the puckered edge before daring to press inside. Derek tensed up at the intrusion, only relaxing at the urging of his partners. Focusing on their voices and their touch, Derek let his body open up to the intrusion. Once Stiles was fully inside, he began to move; first inside and out, then side to side, slowly stretching him. Adding a little more lube and another finger and then two more, Stiles expertly prepared him; he must have been practicing. The thought made Derek’s dick twitch where it rested against his abdomen. The feeling of those fingers taking him apart from the inside was exquisite torture. Stiles was careful to avoid his most sensitive spot, but by the time he pulled out, Derek’s hips were thrusting up and he whined at the lost.

Lydia pushed him up into a seated position as Stiles scooted out of the way. He winced at the sudden pressure on his loosened hole, but it was only momentary. She maneuvered him around so that they were face to face. Grabbing a condom and the bottle of lube, she deftly rolled the plastic sheath down his erection, spreading the lubricant from base to tip and making Derek’s hips buck forward at the rush of sensation. She pulled him into a tender kiss before guiding him into her wet heat. Derek gasped as his hips pressed inside, a tight pressure circling him and drawing him in. He knew that he should move, touch her or just do something; he couldn’t imagine that it was very pleasant to just have some guy sitting there with his dick inside you. But he was so overwhelmed that he had to close his eyes and just breathe. Lydia ran her hands through his hair, sending shivers down his spine and shocking him back to reality. He leaned forward, locking their lips together as he slowly shifted his hips forward, the friction lighting all of his nerve endings on fire.

“Ready?” Stiles asked, his clean hand ghosting over the globe of Derek’s ass.

“God yes,” Derek huffed, arching back into the fleeting touch. Lydia hummed in agreement, thrusting her hips up to follow his movement. Derek pulled back slightly, looking down at her in concern. “We’re not going to crush you, are we?” he asked urgently.

“I think you’ll find I’m pretty tough,” Lydia assured him, tugging him back down and nuzzling the side of his face. Derek suddenly felt the blunt press of Stiles’ dick against his hole, the pressure catching him off guard even though he knew it was coming. “Focus on me,” she whispered, her breath tickling his ear as she cupped his face. He let her take the lead as Stiles slowly and steadily pressed inside him from behind. It was almost too much, being buried deep inside Lydia with Stiles pinning him into place. Once Stiles bottomed out, Derek took a deep breath, preparing himself. He moaned as Stiles started to pull out before thrusting his hips forward sharply. Derek’s pelvis canted forward, shifting against Lydia and he lost himself in the rhythm between their bodies. As he got used to the push and pull of Stiles and the cyclical rolls of Lydia, he began to rock his own hips back and forth frantically and out of sync, desperate for friction on both ends. Lydia wrapped her legs around Stiles’ ass, pulling them both closer to her and changing the angle ever so slightly in the most perfect way. Hands roamed all over his body, tweaking the pebbles of his nipples, tracing the sensitive V at the crook of his thighs and discovering pleasure points in places Derek didn’t even know he had. Wet tears trailed down his face; belatedly, he realized he was crying.

“You okay?” Lydia asked, pulling away from his mouth as the salty dampness dribbled onto her cheek. She wiped away the tears pooling in his eyes with the soft pad of her thumb.

“I’m just so happy,” Derek confessed, so full of emotion, so full of love that he thought he was going to explode. A familiar heat built up in his stomach as his hips continue to move of their own accord. He moaned loudly and shamelessly, finally letting go utterly and completely. His orgasm struck suddenly and hard. But as he shuddered through his release, it wasn’t the physical pleasure that pleased him the most. Just the feeling of being pressed between the two people he loved most in the world was enough.

Panting heavily, Derek vaguely registered Stiles shifting backward to rest on his heels, wrapping his arms around Derek and pulling him with him. He hissed in sensitivity as he slowly extricated himself from Lydia, frowning at the loss, but the firmness of Stiles still buried inside him kept the feeling of emptiness from hitting quite yet. Lydia helped him remove the condom, her fingers careful not to over stimulate with her touch.

“I’ll go get something to wash you up,” she whispered, pressing a sloppy kiss to his lips before pushing herself off the bed and walking towards the bathroom without a stitch of clothing.

“Hey!” Stiles called out. Derek craned his neck around to see him looking indignant. “Some of us aren’t finished here!”

“Tell me about it,” she returned dryly. Derek felt a sickening swoop in his stomach. He knew that he was focusing too much on himself. He hadn’t given Lydia what she needed. He had failed her.

“I’m sorry-” Derek mumbled apologetically, but Lydia cut him off.

“It’s okay. This was about you, Derek,” she reminded him. “You finish up, I’ll be right back.” With a swish of her hair, Lydia turned. For a moment, Derek was too preoccupied in the swing of her hips as she left the room to think of much of anything else, and by the time he returned out of his lust induced haze, Stiles had begun pounding into him again, providing an ample distraction.

“We love you so much, you know that right?” Stiles grunted, punctuating every other word with a thrust.

“I know,” Derek gasped as the motion rubbed his cock roughly against the soft sheets. It was almost too much too soon, but he could already feel it trying to get hard again. Okay, so this possessive thing was kinda a turn on for him. Good to know.

“Say it!” Stiles ordered gruffly, his hands gripping Derek’s hips so hard that it would leave bruises if not for his healing capabilities. He was suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to leave marks of his own; he didn’t think Lydia would be too into the idea, but he had a feeling Stiles would be on board.

“You love me,” Derek panted. “You both love me.”

“I want you to feel this for days,” Stiles moaned, his hips starting to lose their rhythm but none of their force. Derek was slightly surprised that his scrawny frame held so much power. His partner was full of surprises, it seemed. “I want you to feel this and remember tonight and remember how much we love you.”

“I will,” Derek moaned, pushing his hips back against Stiles’ thrusts. Stiles’ grip grew even tighter as he came, shaking violently as he let out little breathy groans that went straight to Derek’s embarrassingly hard cock.

Slow clapping by the doorway distracted his attention from the limp form that was Stiles draped haphazardly over his back, all of his previous intensity apparently vanished upon his release. “That was hot,” Lydia commended.

“How long were you watching?” Stiles asked as he reluctantly pulled out, sounding slightly self-conscious. Derek buried his face into the sheets to hide his wince; he was certainly feeling the gaping emptiness Stiles left behind.

“Long enough to be feeling really sexually frustrated.”

“Come here,” Derek beckoned, pushing himself upright again. He grimaced a little at the change in position but he brushed off Stiles’ concerned look. As uncomfortable as it was…he was enjoying the burning reminder of what had just transpired. He doubted it would last very long; his body was probably already starting to heal. Derek was going to savor every moment of this.

Lydia shook her head, her hair draping elegantly over her breasts. “Don’t worry about it, I’m teasing.”

Derek raised his eyebrows at her. “This was all about me, right? Giving me what I want and need, right?”

“Yeah. So?”

“Well, what if what I wanted was for you to feel good. What if I wanted to see you come?” he asked as innocently as he could muster after having the brains fucked out of him and another raging hard on vying for attention.

“Then I’d say what do you have in mind?” Lydia asked, biting her lip intently.

“Get back over here,” Derek instructed, patting the bed in front of him. Lydia joined him, letting him trail his hands up and down the smooth inside of her thighs as he spread them apart. Her labia opened slightly, revealing a liquidy sheen of arousal and a swollen red and interested clitoris. He licked his lips subconsciously, earning an endearing snort from above. Stiles crawled across the bed to position himself behind her.

“What are you doing?” she asked as she raised an eyebrow skeptically in his direction.

“Getting behind you so I could hold your legs?” Stiles said, his voice trailing off into a higher pitch as his statement transformed into a question.

“You keep that thing away from me,” she warned, wrapping one of the towels she had brought back with her behind her back.

“What thing?” Stiles asked in confusion.

“Your dick.”

“I thought you liked my dick?”

“Not when it’s just been up Derek’s ass.” She shot him an apologetic look. “No offense.”

“None taken,” Derek replied.

“It was in a condom!” Stiles insisted.

“I don’t care! Until you take a shower I’m off limits, got it?”

After a little bickering and adjusting, Lydia was lying back flush against Stiles’ chest, her legs held out wide, leaving her on display. “Beautiful,” Derek muttered, kissing the inside of her knee and slowly working his way up.

“Glad you think so, but could you please stop teasing?” she asked with a hint of annoyance in her voice.

Derek blushed. “Sorry.” He brought a finger up to trace her opening, exploring the crease between the outer and inner folds, gathering her slick fluid in the center before pressing firmly over her clitoris. Her breath hitched, thrusting her hips forward as Derek slowly slipped a finger inside, then two, exploring how similar yet how different it felt to when it was his cock inside her. With his fingers still in place, Derek leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her sensitive nub as he curled his digits up, pressing against the side of her pelvic bone. After a few more thrusts elicited a few soft moans, he withdrew, exclusively sucking on the clitoris.

“Fuck,” Lydia panted. Derek moved his way down, lapping at the folds beneath the nub, alternating between little teasing licks and broad stripes across the entire thing, circling back around at the top. He slowly worked his tongue inside her, lapping at her sweet taste as he buried his nose around her clit, rubbing softly as he kissed her intimately. A particularly loud groan caused him to glance up; the sight of Stiles mouthing at her neck with abandon nearly made him come again right then. Derek returned his focus to Lydia, returning over and over to the places that seemed to give her the most pleasure, riding every buck of her hips as she chased her climax. With a final cry, Lydia tensed around his tongue, leaning forward as she came. The slight change in her scent as she did so was enough to push Derek over the edge again, spilling as he rutted shamelessly into the sheets.

“Wow,” Lydia sighed, slumping back against Stiles. Derek hummed in agreement.

“That was…” Stiles began, for once at a loss of words. “Wow.”

Lydia pulled her legs together again, making a face. “Okay, as amazing as that was, I vote showers next.”

“And food, I’m starving,” Stiles added.

“I think I could arrange that,” Derek replied. “But I’m not sure if I want to be too far away from either of you right now…”

Stiles snorted. “Very subtle.”

“I wasn’t trying to be,” Derek shot back dryly.

“Okay,” Lydia agreed. “But no shower sex. I’m not getting accidentally pregnant because you two couldn’t keep it in your pants for five minutes.”

“But isn’t the point of the shower kinda not to have pants on?” Stiles asked as his eyes blinked blearily in confusion.

“Come on,” Derek interrupted, standing up and pulling them both with him. “The sooner we get clean the sooner we get food.”

Stiles sighed heavily. “You make a convincing argument, dude.”

Derek looked over at both of them fondly, taking a minute to just savor the moment. “Thank you. For tonight. For everything. I don’t know what I’d do without the two you.”

“Good thing you’ll never have to find out,” Lydia quipped with a grin. “Now come on, I don’t know about you but I’m starving.”

Smiling so hard that it almost hurt, Derek followed them to the shower, feeling like the luckiest man alive.

And for once, he probably was.


	21. Chapter Twenty-One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for graphic violence including domestic violence. This should be the last of the warnings. :)

“Thank you so much for babysitting, Scott, I really appreciate it,” Carrie said as she entered the house, dropping her purse by the door.

“It’s no problem, really,” Scott replied, ruffling the little tuft of hair on his little sister’s head. “It’s been nice getting to know Melly.”

“She likes you, I can tell,” Carrie remarked, looking at them both fondly. “I’m glad she has you, Scott. She’s going to need her big brother to look up to.” She sighed heavily. “You know, in spite of all the pain and trouble it caused, I’m kind of glad that Rafe and I left when we did.” Scott schooled his features into a neutral expression, trying desperately to ignore the viselike grip on his heart. He had read most of her letters by now; he had more or less forgiven her. But to hear Carrie talk so cavalierly about the subject...he couldn’t deny that it hurt. “He was out of your life when he probably would have had the most influence over you. You had a chance to grow up as the good person you are, as the boy your mother raised you to be. You’re already ten times the man he ever was, and for that I’m thankful.”

“Oh,” Scott muttered. When she put it that way, it made sense. “I guess you’re right.”

“Sorry,” she said, shaking her head self-deprecatingly. “I’m still getting used to this whole being a mother again thing. I’m doing a horrible job.”

Scott shrugged. “You’re here, you’re trying. That’s a start.” She smiled at him gratefully and the settled into a mostly comfortable silence where they both watched little Melly bat at the toy dangling in front of her. “Any luck on the job search?” Scott asked finally.

Carried shook her head sadly. “The economy is awful and I haven’t worked in years,” she informed him regretfully. “Not many opportunities out there.”

“I could talk to Deaton, he’s been looking for extra help at the clinic.” That was a lie, but he was sure he could talk his boss into something if that was what it took to find her something.

“I have a really bad cat allergy,” she confessed. “I don’t think it would work out. But thanks for the offer.” Melly started fussing and Scott automatically checked to see if she needed changing, but she seemed alright. She’d had her bottle right before Carrie arrived, so she probably wasn’t hungry. “I think someone’s ready for bed,” Carrie supplied, answering his confusion.

“I can take her upstairs for you, if you want,” Scott offered. “You look beat.”

“That would be wonderful,” Carrie sighed in relief, her face sagging with the tiredness that she had clearly been trying to keep reined in. “Let me say goodnight?” Nodding, Scott handed the baby to her mother. “Night night, my little one. I love you,” she murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “Go be a good girl for your brother, okay?” Melly gurgled in what almost seemed like a response. “That’s my girl,” she cooed before passing her back to Scott, who arranged her carefully against his chest, her head resting on his shoulder. “Would you like to stay for dinner?” Carrie asked before he reached the stairs.

“Sorry, I have a ton of homework I’ve got to finish,” he informed her, though that too was a lie. He just wasn’t sure how much time he could spend with her alone without the baby to act as a buffer. Yet.

“That’s alright, your school work is the most important. You can’t let those grades slip, even if you’re already going to college.”

“I’ll remember that,” Scott said with a smile as he climbed the stairs with his baby sister. He had opted to attend the closest UC school he could; as important as his education was, he wanted to be close to his new family. They were good schools and he just couldn’t bear to be an absentee brother to his new siblings. Just the thought made him cling to Melly a little tighter. He wouldn’t miss this for the world. Kissing the baby on top of her head, Scott carefully laid her down in the crib and tucked her in as her eyes drooped under the weight of sleep. He sat there for a few minutes just watching the steady rise and fall of her tiny chest. He’d never really given much thought into the possibility of having kids of his own someday. And he knew that was a long way off; there was no way he could even consider the idea for at least another five to ten years. But having a baby in his life...it made him realize that parenthood was something he really, truly wanted.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Carrie’s voice called out frantically, startling Scott out of his thoughts. Melly stirred slightly but thankfully did not wake. Patting her shoulder lightly, Scott silently crept towards the top of the stairs, making his way down them as unobtrusively as he could to assess the situation.

“You stole my daughter. I’m here to take what’s rightfully mine!” his father’s voice spat, enraged. Scott was forced to contain his own fury. He had to be smart about this or his sister would pay the price. And he was not about to let that happen.

“She’s a person, not your property!” Scott called back as he stepped out of the shadows, crossing the room quickly to place himself between Carrie and his father. Rafe wasn’t looking too well; his hair had grown out to the point of looking scraggly and his eyes were so bloodshot that he was either high or hadn’t slept in days. “Get the hell out of this house.”

“This bitch took her away,” his father continued, as if that was sufficient information. “She kidnapped the baby.”

“She was trying to protect her from you, trying to give Melly some real family who actually loves her,” Scott bit back. “And that woman you just called a bitch? She’s more a mother to me than you will ever be my father.” Surprisingly, as strained as their relationship was, it was actually the truth.

“Scott, Scott,” his father drawled. “When did you become such a mama’s boy?” He shook his head. “I see how it is then.” He reached behind him and whipped out a pistol, aiming it right in Scott’s direction.

“Oh my god,” Carrie gasped frantically behind him.

“Please, like you’ve never seen a gun before,” Rafe dismissed.

“Never pointed at my son,” she quipped back.

“You can’t hurt me with that,” Scott informed him.

“Oh, that’s right,” his father continued. “You’re not quite all you appear to be, are you Scotty boy?”

“What is he talking about?” Carrie asked in confusion. She would find out soon enough, but he was extremely curious to find out how his father seemed to know…his lycanthropy could be the only thing he could be talking about with that creepy knowing look on his face.

“What do you mean?” he asked his father.

“I guess you could say...a little birdie told me.” Scott’s blood ran cold as his father rolled up his sleeve to reveal a tattoo that he didn’t have before he left Beacon Hills all those years ago.

“You. You were in with Peter? You were trying to kill me?” Scott gasped in disbelief.

“I must admit, you have become quite the disappointment, not to mention an inconvenience,” his father admitted. “Peter understood how the world should work. What a real man’s place in that world is.” Rafe shrugged. “He just wasn’t a natural leader. He wanted all of it for himself and used us all to get there. Unfortunately for him, I was smarter. He wanted to kill you for your power. What he didn’t know was that I was going to kill him right after. It was your power, it rightfully belonged to me. I can only imagine what that must be like, knowing that you have the power to kill with your bare hands.”

“Scott, what the hell is he talking about?” Carrie demanded.

“Go on, Scott. Show her. Show her the monster you really are,” Rafe goaded.

“The only monster here is you,” Scott said, his voice firm and determined. “You’re never getting what I have. It wouldn’t have even worked anyways. You don’t get it, do you? Power isn’t about hurting, it’s about helping. That’s all I’ve ever tried to do.” He turned his head halfway so he could see Carrie, who looked equal parts terrified and curious. “Please don’t be scared,” he pleaded, wishing that he had an opportunity to explain all of this before. But he’d rather do it like this than for her to see him transform in the scuffle or something like that. Breathing deeply, Scott allowed the shift to overcome him, face stretching and hair sprouting in a way that was now second nature. Carrie’s heartbeat quickened, her eyes wide as she took in the sight of her transformed son.

“What are you?” she whispered, her confused voice thankfully not filled with revulsion.

“He’s a werewolf,” his father supplied. “A predator. And to think you let that thing near my daughter.”

“That _thing_ is my son.” Carrie hissed back, eyes brimming with fiery determination. Scott sighed in relief. There would be a lengthy explanation due, but she didn’t hate him, what he was. That fact mattered more to him than he’d like to admit.

“And that little girl upstairs is my sister,” Scott proclaimed. “And I’m not going to let you lay a finger on her ever again.” He rushed towards his father, snarling, knocking him down. Before he lost his balance, Rafe managed to fire off a shot. The bullet buried itself in Scott’s shoulder, the impact sending a searing sensation across his skin. Carrie screamed his name, but he didn’t have time to reassure her as he kicked the gun clear across the room and wrestled his father to the ground, drawing on every ounce of strength he had. Melly, finally woken by the commotion, let out a horrible wail. “Call the Sheriff!” Scott instructed urgently as Carrie started to the stairs to comfort her daughter; unfortunately, his sister would have to wait.

“This isn’t over,” his father grunted as he halfheartedly fought Scott’s attempts at restraint.

“I think it is,” Scott replied, holding him down with one hand and awkwardly slipping off his belt with another to tie him up. Warm blood dribbled down his arm as he worked. He’d have to get that bullet out soon; he could already feel his body trying to heal around it. But for now, he had to focus on this, what he could do to prevent this man he could no longer call father from hurting his family.

* * *

“Are you really okay?” Melissa asked Scott as she began to remove the bullet and clean up his wound. She was thankful that Sher hadn’t been on duty and that she had been home at the time he got Carrie’s frantic call. Sure, she knew that a bullet for Scott wasn’t as big of a deal as it would be for most people who were only…people. Still, the idea of her baby being shot by his own father was not something she could shrug off. She wasn’t going to be convinced that he was fine until she’d laid eyes on him herself. As she patched Scott up, the Sheriff was on the other side of the room taking Carrie’s statement as she bounced her crying baby in her arms, trying to sooth her. Rafe had been dragged off by Deputy Parrish almost as soon as they arrived on the scene. She winced as she focused on the wound, trying desperately to remind herself that Scott had super healing powers.

“Mom, I’m fine,” he reassured her, grimacing as the bullet slipped out. His skin was already knitting itself back together. It was incredible the way his powers worked like magic. It was a shame that there wasn’t a way to bottle the healing hormone or something; it would be a wonderful tool in the ER.

“Sorry if that hurt,” she apologized as she disinfected and bandaged the spot anyway. Couldn’t be too careful.

“It’s okay. The pain triggers the healing anyway,” he explained. He shook his head, looking towards Carrie and his sister. “I’m just glad I was here. I don’t want to think about what would have happened if I had left five minutes sooner…”

“But you didn’t,” Melissa reminded him. “You did it again. You protected the people you love.”

Scott looked at her in hesitation. “Is that okay? That I love them?”

“Of course,” Melissa replied, kissing him softly on the forehead. “Melly is your sister and Carrie...she’s meant a lot to both of us at different points in time.”

“I know,” Scott replied. “She’s probably got a lot of questions though.”

“You got that right,” Carrie confirmed as she walked over, Melly still squirming and fussing in her arms.

“Want me to try?” Scott offered, holding out his arms and only wincing slightly.

Carrie raised her eyes skeptically. “You were just shot.”

“It will heal,” Scott said with a shrug.

“What do you say?” Carrie asked Melly, who twisted away from her mother. “Do you want your brother to hold you?” She carefully transferred the baby into Scott’s waiting arms. Melissa stayed close just in case he was pushing himself too far. She needn’t have worried; Scott was a natural.

“Hey Melly,” Scott cooed, holding her up close to his face. “It’s okay. You and Mommy are safe now.” He pressed a tender kiss to her cheek. “We’re going to be alright.” His sister looked up at him quizzically, temporarily distracted from her distress.

“Did you know about this?” Carrie asked Melissa. “Scott’s...condition?”

“You can say the word you know, it’s not like he spontaneously sprouts fur every time someone says ‘werewolf’.” Melissa explained dryly, causing Scott to duck his head to hide the fact that he was biting back a laugh. “But yeah, I’ve known for a while now. And I couldn’t be more proud.”

“I can’t believe that this is something you wanted,” Carrie mused.

“It wasn’t,” Scott answered. “But like a good friend told me...it’s a gift. I can help people with it; I can try and stop people from getting hurt. I can make a difference.”

“Well then,” Carrie said, a strange look crossing her face. “I’m proud too.”


	22. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is it. I'd like to thank you all who made it this far. I hope you've enjoyed reading this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it. 
> 
> Thank you again to all of the people I noted at the beginning for making this possible.

Months had passed since Rafe’s arrest. Summer had come and gone; it was now August and the final preparations for college were underway. Melissa was just thankful that Scott had opted to stay close to home. Sure it’d be an adjustment, but not as bad as it would be for Lydia’s family; she was going all the way to New England. It also seemed fitting that Stiles would chose the same school as Scott; they had been together since preschool and the idea of them living more than an hour apart was almost unthinkable. She worried a little bit about how the distance would have an impact on her step-son’s relationship, but she saw how he was with Lydia and Derek. The way they looked at each other...she had a feeling that things would work themselves out.

Allison opted to stay close to home as well, though she wasn’t going to the same school as Stiles and Scott. She received an archery scholarship from a different university, and even though Chris was fairly well off, it did help ease the burden of having three kids in the household going to college all at once.

Not to mention it helped offset the fact that they had not one but two infants to take care of now. Nothing about the pregnancy had been planned, least of all the fact that she gave birth to twins. By some miraculous freak of nature, they were fraternal, one boy and one girl, each with a different father. Not that it mattered; all three of them loved both children equally. But it did seem kind of fitting. Balanced. Their daughter, Claudia Claire looked so much like her father (and her brother) that it was kind of frightening sometimes. Their son, Victor Élan, looked a little more like Melissa, but he had his father’s eyes. Chris probably spent the most time with the kids because of his flexible schedule, though both Melissa and Sher took time off when they could. It wasn’t often that they were all in the same place these days.

But tonight was special. It was the last time the whole family was going to be together before everyone scattered across the state and the country. Of course, family included Carrie, Melly, Kira, Lydia and Derek. Kira still had a year to go at Beacon Hills High, much to Scott and Allison’s disappointment. But at least they would all be closer than Stiles, Lydia and Derek. Derek, as far as she knew, was staying put. There had been talk at one point of him moving out east with Lydia, but Scott said that Derek had confided in him that he felt like he had a duty to protect the town when Scott was away at college. There had been some talk about trying to rebuild the Hale house, but she was still unclear if that was actually happening or if it was just Stiles rambling and getting overexcited.

Warm arms circled around her, pulling her tight against her husband’s back as he tucked his head in the crook of her neck, burrowing into her hair. “What you thinking about?” he asked, his soft breath tickling her skin.

“How everything is changing,” Melissa replied.

“Hmm,” the Sheriff hummed. “It is. But hey, change can be good, right?”

Grinning, Melissa turned around to face him, cupping his face in her hands. “Change can be the best,” she replied tenderly, kissing him on the nose.

“I’ll drink to that,” Chris concurred as he walked into the kitchen and joined them in their embrace. “I can’t believe this is really happening. Our kids all grown up.”

“And just think, we’ll have to do this all over again in about eighteen years!” Melissa remarked dryly.

“Don’t remind me,” the Sheriff moaned.

“Let’s just get through tonight,” Chris said.

Giving each other one last hug, they broke apart, each going their own direction but with identical content smiles on their faces. If she had to be going through this whole parenthood thing again, she sure as hell picked the right people to do it with.

The doorbell rang and she rushed the answer it; the kids were hanging out upstairs so she was probably the closest anyways. Derek and Lydia stood on the porch, hands laden with food. “Hello,” Derek greeted awkwardly. He was still readjusting to this whole family thing. “Um, I made potato salad and I think Lydia brought some cookies?”

“That’s great, thank you,” Melissa greeted, letting them in. “You can put those right in the kitchen, everyone’s upstairs. You can tell them to come down. We’ll be ready to eat in a few minutes.”

“Thanks, Melissa,” Lydia said as she pulled Derek into the other room.

“Am I late?” Carrie asked as she poked her head in the still open door.

“Not at all,” Melissa assured her. “Hey Melly,” she greeted Scott’s sister. The baby was only about five months old but she had grown like a weed. Compared to her own little ones, she was practically a giant. “Get settled in, take a seat. The kids should be down in a minute.”

Soon everyone filtered downstairs, filling the room with the familiar chatter of voices that she had come to love and was going to miss so much. The twins were set up in their swinging chairs as the rest of the family settled around the table. The food vanished almost as quickly as it was brought out and soon the room was quiet save for the sounds of eager chewing and gurgling babies.

Just as Chris mentioned bringing out dessert, Scott stopped him. Her son stood, holding up his glass of iced tea. “I’d like to make a toast,” he announced, smiling as he cast his gaze around at everyone assembled. “I want to thank my mom for being the most amazing parent anyone could ever ask for.” Melissa couldn’t help but grin bashfully, ducking her head as both Chris and Sher took her hands on either side. “And to Carrie, for giving me a sister and a chance to know my other mom again.” Melissa looked up to see the other woman fighting back tears behind a beaming smile; she too was thankful that Carrie was back in their lives. “To my amazing partners past and present, and to my friends. I wouldn’t be here today without any of you. And to the Sheriff and Chris. Thanks for being my dads.”

“Shit, I’m gonna cry,” Sher muttered only loud enough for her and Chris to hear.

Scott raised his glass higher. “To pack, to family and to new beginnings.”

“To new beginnings!” the rest of the table echoed, clinking glasses together joyfully. They didn’t know what the future would bring, but no matter what, they had each other.

_Fin_

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [We the three - Art Masterpost](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2435753) by [Narya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Narya/pseuds/Narya)




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